Another Legacy
by SEZCPL
Summary: Sequel . Papillion is dead;Derek most definitely isn't. Something new has begun but neither Casey nor Derek is sure what. Meanwhile, there are patients to heal, criminals to catch & a family still completely in the dark. Confused? Read The Legacy first.
1. An Inkling

"You're pretty." The small voice announced. Casey smiled at the compliment. So did the nurse who stood waiting in the corner of the cubicle.

"Thank you. And you're very handsome." Casey replied to the four-year old in front of her.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Her tiny paramour questioned.

"Eric! You can't ask the doctor that. It's not polite!" The little boy's embarrassed mother cried.

Casey laughed. "No I'm single." She told him with a wink and then nodded to the nurse. "Thanks Rosita, he's fine now. Just a pack of tissues and an after-care leaflet, I think." She turned back to Eric. "No more sticking Lego up your nose, young man! Mommy and you would have had more fun enjoying spring at the park than in the ER."

"Aw! But then I wouldn't have met you." He stated, wiggling his eyebrows.

Casey laughed again. "You remind me of someone. Take care, Eric." She said standing up and, with a shake of the mother's hand, left the cubicle.

"What do you mean, "single"?" Rosita asked as she joined Casey at the nurses' station a few minutes later. "What happened to that gorgeous hunk of a guy who's always hanging around at lunchtime…break-time…the end of your shift?"  
Casey frowned, although Rosita wasn't fooled. "Gorgeous hunk of a man? Nope…you lost me."

Rosita laughed. "Yeah. That one. The one you're always arguing with."

Her friend rolled her eyes at the nurse. "Don't whatever you do let him hear you say that. We'll never hear the end of it. And for the record, we're not dating. He's just…"

Whatever she had been about to say was lost as there was a thumping of the ambulance bay doors and two paramedics started to back through the space trailing a wheelchair with a bleeding man in it.

"What have we got?" Casey asked dashing to assist.

"Head injury." The paramedic replied. "This guy's a cop. Fell from some scaffolding."

"Scaffolding?" Casey clarified in surprise and then her eyes widened. "Cop?" She looked down at the patient. To her relief the guy was conscious and didn't look too bad or, more importantly, familiar but she motioned for the paramedics to take him into an examination room and one of her junior colleagues took over, following the wheelchair through the curtain.

"He was chasing a bad guy and slipped." An oh-_too_-familiar voice said from Casey's left and she glanced up to see Derek beside her. He looked tired, but it didn't stop her heart and stomach from flipping as her blue eyes met his brown. There was a spark of fun and something else between them which she recovered from quickly.

"What are you doing here?" Casey asked arching an eyebrow.

Derek shrugged. "I was chasing the bad guy too. I was with Rudy when he came round on the dirt."

Casey stopped dead. "You were chasing a bad guy across scaffolding?" She asked in disbelief. He could almost see the crescendo coming in her posture. As Casey exploding was no unusual occurrence, some of Casey's colleagues stopped what they were doing to watch.

"Yes."

"Are you an idiot? _You_ could have fallen!" No crescendo, she started forte. A couple of interns flinched.

"Aw! She cares!" Derek grinned wearily at the growing audience. Did the guy have a death-wish?

"Of course I care!" Casey hissed in a whisper so loud they could probably hear her in Maternity. "It's me that gets to patch you up when they bring you in."  
"Relax! I have excellent balance." Derek, however, was still calm.

"Which is off-set by your over-sized dumb head."

"Now, now honey. Be nice."

But, Casey's volume knob was apparently broken. "_Mikey_, you've been working double shifts for three days now. You're so tired you can't even walk straight at ground level let alone a couple of storeys up."

Derek rolled his eyes at her over-protectiveness – and at the fact that she wasn't so angry that she forgot his alternate identity. "It was one storey up, and I was following behind Rudy. Good job too. After Rudy fell, I carried on and arrested the perp…at ground level. And who are you to talk to me about working doubles? Little Miss 'I'll be alright pulling this extra shift just as soon as I get my caffeine shot'…"

Derek glanced around the ER as he finished speaking. By now half of Casey's colleagues had stopped what they were doing to listen to the argument (it was something the department looked forward to watching, breaking up as it did the monotony of a quiet moment – Casey and Derek never argued if it was busy.)

"At least I go to sleep in our bed." Casey stated, folding her arms pointedly. "You fall asleep on the couch on the rare occasions when you do come home. When was the last time we even slept _together_?"

It didn't take Casey long to realise what she had just shouted.

"I mean…I…" She stumbled over her words. Derek chuckled.

"Don't!" Casey begged. She lifted her head and regarded the people around her. "I mean…we don't…we're not…" She took a deep breath. "I mean we may share a bed but I…we don't…_sleep_ together."

"Yes we do." Derek interrupted. Technically he was right. They might share a bed and fall asleep together but the important point Casey was attempting to clarify was that they weren't lovers.

"Shut up Michael!" She snapped. "You're making people think we have carnal relations."

At Casey's outburst, a nearby a grandmother covered her baby granddaughter's ears. The action caused Derek to laugh loudly and Casey to mouth "sorry" at the woman. Casey grabbed hold of Derek by his leather jacket and dragged him into a nearby supply closet.

"Ooo…be gentle with me." Derek called out as he disappeared into the tiny room.

The door clicked behind them but not before they heard the giggles from the nurses' station.

"You're a moron, Venturi." Casey said in the confined space, her arms folded and her eyes flashing anger.

"I wasn't the one who started questioning our sleeping habits in front of the whole of the ER." Derek pointed out, all sign of weariness gone. It was ever thus.

"You distracted me." She complained with a pout.

Derek's face lit up. "I did? Cool."

"Der-ek!" But her voice was quiet, exasperated.

He chuckled and putting his hands on her hips, drew her to him. She unfolded her arms and let him pull her close.

"Don't…Casey. Just relax and laugh about it. Don't be so tense." He locked his fingers together behind her back, inwardly marvelling at how he could get away with such affectionate gestures to her these days.

"I can't relax." She groaned, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "It's just not me."

"What? Sane?" he chuckled at his own joke.

"You're infuriating." She said wearily.

Realising she had hit a limit, Derek stopped the teasing. "You're exhausted. You work too hard." He told her. His lips pressing into her hair.  
Casey leaned back and brushed his hair from his face. "So do you." She said softly and he wanted to kiss her, but he didn't because even though they had kissed previously they weren't _there_…they weren't a couple - nor based on current evidence were they ever likely to be.

"Promise me you won't pull a double tonight." He said quietly. "And you'll schedule some time off."

"I'll try." Casey hedged.

"I promise not to sleep on the couch if you come home on time."

Casey snorted. "I'll believe it when I see it, buster."

"I'll try…I just hope that asshole Robin isn't around when you work late."

"Derek…" her tone warned.

"What? He is an asshole. He's old enough to be your father and he's totally after your ass."

Casey rolled her eyes. "Derek, don't be ridiculous. He's _eight_ years older than me…and he's my boss. He's just trying to be a friend to me because I'm new in Ottawa. It was a really generous gesture of his to arrange for my secondment."

"Like there was no fucking self-interest in _that_ decision…" Derek's tired irritation boiled over into anger.

"You sound like a petulant teenager. Maybe _you_ should relax."

He didn't answer. The argument about Robin was an old one by now, because it had started with that phone call at the beginning of the year – the one where Robin first asked Casey out to dinner. It had been that dinner "date" where he had suggested Casey should apply for a year-long secondment to Ottawa – an idea which Derek had both loved and hated: loved because it meant Casey wouldn't be leaving, hated because Casey would be working with Robin.

He had had suspicions about what Casey's "boss" was after with his job offer and the suspicions were confirmed when Derek finally met the guy a couple of weeks later. There had been an instant mutual dislike as the two men sized each other up. What Casey considered "charming and approachable", Derek found "leery" and in some ways plain "creepy". This man would take advantage of Casey at the first opportunity – and Derek vowed to do everything to prevent that.

Halfway through the "friendly dinner" with Derek and Casey, Robin had suggested that Casey move into hospital accommodation which was convenient for the commute to work – and "coincidentally" where he himself lived. For a very bad half an hour, Derek thought Casey was considering it, and it took everything in his willpower not to make a scene. He knew Casey and he knew that if he objected to it, she would move out of his apartment (and probably his life) the following day.

That day in the restaurant, the only signs Casey had of Derek's disquiet was the tensing of his hand on the small of her back and when she queried the tension with her eyes, the panic reflected back. It had come as something of a shock – and relief- to Derek when Casey had replied that for the time being she was quite comfortable with her current accommodation situation. There had also been a touch of smugness.

Later when they were alone, Casey had pushed to know what was up and Derek had been forced to confess his dislike of Robin. She hadn't been happy. They had argued about it, and Casey threatened to change her mind about the living arrangements. No sooner had the words left her lips, however and she knew that it wouldn't be happening anytime soon. The weight on her own chest at the thought of such a step reminded her that whilst she was sure she _could_ be away from him if absolutely necessary she couldn't hurt their "friendship" that way. She wasn't exactly sure how to term this "relationship" but she wasn't ready to damage it.

That night, his arm had seemed tighter than normal around her middle as they slept.

Back to the supply closet now, and in an effort to change the subject Derek asked about his colleague. "Will Rudy be okay?"

"It doesn't look too serious at first glance, but with head injuries you can't be sure. We'll clean him up and admit him for observation. Are you going home?"  
"Nah. Spike's out of the office this afternoon, so I'm "it"."  
She chuckled. "Your ego will love that. What time are you home?"

"As soon as I can, princess. I'll text you…okay?"

"Okay."  
Derek, in gratitude at the lack of pressure (and just because he never passed up an opportunity to do it) pressed a kiss against her nose.

"And don't work so hard." He said in a murmur.

"Right back at ya!" Casey smiled as their foreheads touched.

* * *

Later, Casey followed Derek to the hospital entrance to say goodbye. She saw with concern the slumping of his shoulders and the paleness of his skin. She knew they both worked far too hard. It was a sign of their age, because they were young enough to have the work piled on, old enough to have acquired responsibility in their roles, and they were that in-between stage in life where they had yet to have children.

It was hard to see someone you love wearing themselves down. She wanted to be able to comfort him, to rub the day from his aching muscles and to tell him how proud she was of his achievements. But that was the role of the person who walked beside him in life – the role and responsibility of a girlfriend. And Casey, whilst loving him unconditionally, did not own that title.

In the few months since she had made the decision to stay (temporarily) in Ottawa, Casey had continued the constant contemplation of her relationship with Derek. She mentally considered many titles and descriptions but none of them fit. The closest she could find was that he was her best friend. But that wasn't a snug fit either. Not many people sleep in the same bed night after night with their best friend – or at least not unless they were in a marriage or a committed relationship where "best friend" was another term for "lover".

The co-sleeping _had_ continued, becoming so normal to her that she actually struggled to sleep on the occasions where their shift patterns didn't gel or Derek fell asleep on the couch. She needed the feel of the extra weight on the other side of the bed, the soft gentle sighing of his sleeping breaths and the warm, pleasantly-restricting presence of his out-slung arm around her middle.

Sometimes when they were at their most honest; at their most quiet and considerate of each other, Casey could almost believe he needed her beside him in the bed too.

Breaking herself from her thoughts, Casey turned from the hospital doors, walked across to the station again, picked up the next set of patient notes and briefly flicked through them. Rosita was perched on a rotating chair nearby, her usually cheerful face wearing an uncharacteristic frown.

"What's up?" Casey asked.

Rosita shook her head and rubbed the back of her neck in confusion. "I don't know. Would you have time to look at a patient for me? It's one allocated to Alistair."

Casey looked taken a back. "Sure…is there a problem? Is Alistair not available?"

"He's taking a break because he's been on for ten hours straight but this patient is in pain and I don't know why. I mean, we know _why_ there is pain but…" her voiced trailed away.

"Come on, lead the way." Casey said straightening and sticking her pen back into the pocket of her scrubs.

A few minutes later, Casey too was wearing an identical frown as they emerged from the patient's cubicle.

"I have to say, I'm confused too." She admitted. "You're right. I have no idea why he's in such pain."  
"I've given him the maximum morphine dose. It's enough to knock out a bull, and while I have to admit that he's asleep right now, his vitals are clearly indicating he's in pain. He shouldn't feel anything."

"I know. He can't have any more morphine, but I'll recommend an alternative pain killer. It won't be as effective but anything is better than nothing."  
"Thanks Casey." Rosita looked around her. "Has Mikey gone?"  
"Yes. He had to get back."

"So what is the deal with you two anyway?"

Casey chuckled. "If you ever work it out, _please_ tell me!"

* * *

"How is he?" Jazz asked looking up from his desk when Derek returned to the office.

Derek shrugged as he took off his jacket, exposing the gun and its holster. "They're going to do a CT scan and keep him in for observation but he looks a lot better than he did when I first saw him lying there on the ground.

"Who's with him?" Jazz watched Derek hang the jacket up and flop into his chair at the desk.

"His girlfriend. He called her from the ER and she came over."

Jazz nodded. "Is she hot?"  
Derek rolled his eyes. "You have a one-track mind, don't you?"

His friend laughed at Derek's reluctance to bite. "And how is _Casey_? I assume you saw her." Jazz had met Casey while he was recuperating from his leg injury on the Papillion case. He saw Casey and he saw Derek interact with her and Jazz _knew_ straight away.

Derek snorted and shook his head in despair. "Who said I saw her?"

"Like you are going to pass up the opportunity for a fight with Casey…"

"We didn't fight."

Jazz raised an eyebrow. Derek surrendered.

"Okay. Maybe just a little fight." He smirked.

Jazz sighed. "You know, having sex is more fun."

Derek shook his head. "You've never had a fight with Casey. Watching her face at the exact moment she realises you've outwitted her…priceless."

"What about watching her face in the heat of the moment? If you are going to fight with her, at least have the make-up sex."

"Sex? With Casey?" Derek snorted. "Over _her_ dead body."

Derek had quickly moved the subject on to the issues affecting the department. With Rich's betrayal and Derek's subsequent promotion, Spike's absences left Derek and Jazz as numbers one and two in the department; Jazz might well be confined to desk duty with his leg still in a cast, but his intelligent reading of situations was an asset neither Spike nor Derek were willing to give up.

"I've been thinking." Jazz said after a moment. "You know this "keep your personal lives personal" policy… it's just…"

"…not working." Derek finished.

"No."

"What do we do about it?"  
Jazz shrugged. "We encourage people to "share"?"

Derek snorted. "Since when did you get to be Ricki Lake?"

"Since some dick of a co-worker tried to shaft us and we all know he wasn't the first."

"He probably won't be the last either." Derek pointed out.

"No but I'd rather get an inkling if he's crooked _before_ he's holding a gun to my head."

"And how are we going to achieve that?"

"We all need to spend more time together. That way we can suss each other out."  
Derek frowned "What do you want me to do? Send out a memo saying "date a co-worker"?"

"Don't be an ass, Mikey. I mean we should organise some team-building events outside of hours. We can get "S" division to cover so everyone can take part."

"What sort of events?" Derek wasn't buying this. "The guys won't want to go-karingt."

"I was thinking more rock-climbing or a baseball game in the park and chuck some meat on the grill. We could invite girlfriends and families to the latter."

Derek sighed. "I guess we have to do something. I'll leave it up to you but I'd suggest something that involves only our department to start off. We'll wait to invite significant others until I'm sure this lot aren't a bunch of mass murderers."

* * *

It was late – again- when Casey left the female locker room dressed in street clothes, her purse slung over her shoulder. She was, however, earlier than she had been in weeks and she smiled at the thought of being home early enough for a long soak in the bath and the chance to eat something before bed. She was thoughtful as she walked the deserted corridors to the public area of the trauma unit, wondering if Derek was home already, or if he too had been forced to stay late by his over-developed sense of duty. The Derek of her teenaged years was flaky and unreliable but more carefree. This Derek was dependable, loyal and fiercely protective, and he wasn't as fun-loving as he had been.

Casey didn't care. She was just glad he was alive.

"How do you manage it?" A voice said from a dark corner as she passed. "It's the butt-end of a long shift and you still look fantastic."

Casey rolled her eyes and stopped. "Hi Robin. Flattery at this time of night?" She said, smiling despite the little Derek devil on her shoulder whispering "He's just trying to get in your pants" in her ear.

"With you, gorgeous, the flattery is due _any_ time of the day. You off home?"

"I am." Casey confirmed. "It's been a long day."  
Robin emerged from the shadows.

"I'm still hearing great things about you." He said. "You're a hit, girl!"

Casey looked relieved. "I'm trying. Things are a little different than in London. I don't want to tread on anyone's toes."

"Sometimes a little change and a kick up the pants is what we all need. It's all good Casey. Now, when are you going to let me take you out to dinner to celebrate?"  
He leaned against the wall to the side of Casey's head and smirked at her. She chuckled. He really was very good-looking and the attention was flattering. He was, however, her boss.

"I'm really busy at the moment…I don't know…maybe next week?"

"Sure. I'm thinking French this time. Italian is so over done, don't you think?"

Casey ignored the jibe that Robin obviously thought she wouldn't notice. Last time she had been to dinner with Robin was the never-to-be-forgotten meal with Derek. They had visited an Italian restaurant close to their apartment which Derek raved about. The choice of food then had been Derek's and Robin knew that.

"French sounds nice." Casey replied, sounding tired. "Check with Susan and see which evenings I'm not on lates. I won't book anything else until I know which day you've chosen."

"Great! It'll be nice to catch up – just the _two_ of us."

As Casey got into her car, she cursed the need for grown men to butt horns like that. Why couldn't they just get on? This one-upmanship didn't make sense. What were they fighting over?

Her?

She groaned as she realised on some level they probably were indeed fighting over her. It puzzled her. One was her step-brother, the other one her boss. Casey couldn't date either of them, so she failed to see the point.

Exasperated, she drove home, her mind pondering the idea of relationships with unattainable men.

* * *

The apartment was still in darkness when she arrived and there was no note from Derek since he was still at work. Her phone vibrated as she slipped her coat off and hung it up.

**Sorry…another late one. Don't wait up. Dx**

Casey shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. In many ways it was a good thing that he didn't have a girlfriend. Not least the fact that a girlfriend might be upset by his long hours and uninformative text messages. Casey, however, understood.

**Just got in. I'll leave you some food in the fridge. Try not to fall asleep on the couch. And no more scaffolding. Cx**

Across the other side of the city, her words made Derek smile. Casey was pretty much the perfect partner. On a superficial level she could cook, she had an obsessive need to clean and she was easy on the eye, but there was more to it than that. She had listened to him about finishing work early and she was concerned about him: that he wouldn't eat, that he wouldn't make it to bed, or that he might put himself in danger. Coupled with her understanding that it wasn't his choice to work late and her failure to show any ire when he broke their "plans" he couldn't think of anyone else he would rather share his life with.

But then Casey could be a complete slob, incapable of boiling water and as ugly as sin…he'd still think she was perfect. Perfect for him. And of course maybe, one day, maybe he'd even get around to telling her…

…and stand back while she bolted for the hills.

Casey, freshly bathed and fed, wrapped a plate of food for Derek and placed it in the fridge. She wrote **Cook as Usual** on a post-it note and stuck it to the plate. Then she closed the fridge door, clicked off the kitchen light and took herself off to bed.

Clean sheets, clean Casey, early night and a good book. Coupled with her tired state and the run of long shifts, it didn't take her long to fall asleep. Her body rising and falling slowly with the contented sighs of sleep.

And though she didn't know it, it was only an hour later when a draught blew around her suddenly exposed back and then the bed dipped behind her. A strong arm slid around her waist, lips pressed against her hair, then something cold brushed against her feet.

"Ew! Your feet are cold." She moaned now only half-asleep.

"So warm them up." Derek chuckled in her ear.

"Did you eat?" She asked sleepily.

"Yes…thank you. _And_ I'm not asleep on the couch." He whispered proudly.

"Good. Now shut up and let _me_ sleep." She ordered, promptly falling asleep to the sound of Derek chuckling.


	2. London

"Derek?"

"Hmm?"

"What time do you have to be in work? It's 6.30am."  
Derek smiled to himself. It was moments like this that he managed to fool himself that they were more; moments where the conversation and the circumstances fit a scenario that he dreamt of most nights. It would be so easy to roll over and pin her to the bed, kiss her into submission; to make love to her as the morning light grew stronger through the bedroom blinds.

Instead, he merely chuckled softly and pressed a kiss against the back of her neck; actions which might have earned him a knee in rather sensitive parts a decade ago. Now, he noted she merely groaned in a cute way and forced herself round to face him; hardly the actions of a disinterested party.

"You'll be late." She said her face close to his.

"Next Monday." He murmured with his eyes still closed.

"Der-ek! Wake up!" Casey shoved him in frustration.

He opened an eye. "I am awake. I was answering your question. Next Monday."

"What do you mean – Next Monday?"

"You asked me what time I need to be in work. I answered…Next Monday."

"What?"

He grinned. "I took some vacation time. I'm off till next Monday. Turn the light off on your way to the bathroom, Doc."

Casey rolled onto her back and slightly away from him.

"I can't." She said, staring at the ceiling.

"Oh?"  
Casey smiled to herself. "I took the week off as well!"

* * *

The next time Derek awoke, it was because the sunlight was pouring through the blinds drowning his side of the bed with a bright light that was both pleasant and painful at the same time. He rolled onto his side and noted that Casey's side of the bed was empty too. Before he could panic about her absence, something grabbed the attention of his nostrils…bacon, eggs and, if he wasn't mistaken, some sort of pastry product.

Yes, Casey was perfect.

Then he remembered the non-status of their relationship and the lack of sex.

Okay…almost perfect.

He emerged from their bedroom scratching his head and yawning. Casey laughed which made him frown.

"What?"  
"You're so predictable. I was just counting down how long it would take you get up once I put the bacon on. I thought less than a minute - You lasted thirty seconds."

"You know me so well." He acknowledged grabbing for a mug of coffee that was sitting on the side.

"That was _my_ coffee." She protested.

"My need is greater."

"Maybe I should just eat all the bacon then."

His eyes widened. "I'll make you a fresh cup, right now." He promised.

Casey chuckled and Derek couldn't resist planting a kiss on her cheek as he past her on the way to the coffee machine.

"How long did you sleep?" he asked.

"I've been up about half an hour. I can't sleep in for too long, it makes my legs ache. It's a dancer thing."

He arched an eyebrow. "Are you still doing that?"  
"Dancing? Yes, when my hours allow. I go to a centre near the hospital – it's on a Tuesday and Thursday – you know when Spike has a half day and you work late."  
"Ah! I was wondering why you never pick up then."

"You never ring then!" She argued. He chuckled.

"I used to…until I worked out you'd never pick up." He handed her the new mug of coffee he had been making. "What shall we do for our week off?"

"I have plans for the end of the week but I'm sure we can fit some stuff in before then."

"Plans?" Derek queried. His tone was slightly off and Casey sighed.

"Derek, can't I do stuff without having to run it past you?"  
"Of course you can. I was just asking so I know if I need to clear out and leave you to it." He half-lied. He was interested in what she was doing, or more particularly, who she was doing it with.

"You don't need to leave. I am. I'm going to drive home for the weekend."

"Home?" A part of him didn't like that she thought of somewhere other than their apartment as home. _Quit being such a controlling bastard, Venturi._ H reprimanded himself.

"London, Derek. _Our_ home, remember? I'll probably pop across to Toronto too, and see Mom and George while I'm at it."

"Oh." Her explanation pacified him. It was reassuring that they had so much shared history. Even he needed reminding about that sometimes. Seven years is a long time to be apart from someone. Almost daily he was reminded of what he had lost, even though he had regained Casey.

There was a moment of silence. Casey looked and felt awkward. She put a hand on his arm.

"I'd ask you to come with me only…" She began to explain.

"…only I'm dead to them." He finished in mock flippancy. "It's okay, Casey." He put his hand over hers and she leaned against him.

"No it isn't. It kills me every time I talk to them – that I can't tell them you're alive. That they can't believe what I believe. But, I won't avoid them. I can't stay away from them. I haven't seen them since I made the decision to move here and I know they miss me. Mom begs me to come home every time she phones."

Derek curved his arm around her and drew her closer.

"It's okay, princess. They are safer not knowing." He chuckled. "And let's face it, the fact that we live together would probably give the entire clan a collective coronary."

Casey lifted her face to look at him her own face wearing a slight smirk. "No shit." She agreed and then to Derek's surprise she kissed him slowly and softly on the lips, twice. He joined her with the kiss, but they didn't deepen it.

"Never mind what they'd make of _that_." He commented when his mind was his own again.

Kisses like that between them weren't common, but they did happen. They were usually out of the blue instigated by the one, taking the other completely by surprise. They never went any further and they always left both of them wanting.

"I'll go on Thursday." Casey stated. "What did you want to do in the meantime?"

_More kissing._ Derek thought to himself, but he said nothing.

* * *

In the end, part of the choice was taken from them when Jazz phoned to say that he had made an executive decision and booked the entire department on a "climbing expedition" to a local climbing wall for the Wednesday night. Apparently it was one of the most challenging walls of its kind in the world and Derek at least seemed up for the challenge.

Casey, still in her pyjamas lounging on the couch, had enquired casually.

"Shall I bring my medical bag?"

Derek paused. "It's not really open to non-department staff." He stated. She raised an eyebrow. "I mean…look I don't trust half of these guys and…"

She interrupted. "…isn't that the point? To build trust in your team?"

"Yeah. I guess. I just thought it was important that we got to know each other as a group first before we threw family and significant others into the mix."  
"Well there's your answer." Casey pointed out triumphantly. "I can definitely come."  
"Oh?"  
She grinned. "I'm neither family, nor your significant other."

"Nah…you're my insignificant something."

"I rate "something" status…? I'm flattered."

They chuckled together and Derek flopped into the recliner nearby. He wanted her to come, he just didn't want to expose her to an entire department full of Mounties who, as well as being known for "getting their man" were also well-known for getting their woman!

A while later as they watched a rather lame horror movie, he pulled the cushion from the small of his back and threw it across the short distance to where she was lying on the couch.

"On second thoughts," He called across the living room. "Knowing our lot, maybe a qualified medic on site might be a good idea."

"Was that an invitation?"

Derek ignored her. "Just don't forget your Mr Bump sticking plasters."

* * *

Spike looked up as Jazz hobbled into his office.

"Jesus man! You sound like Long John Silver with that cast on. Don't bother knocking I can hear you coming from down the hall."

Jazz snorted. "You try lugging the damn thing around with you. Going to the gym is a piece of cake in comparison. About the only good thing going for it is the increased female attention." He pulled a face. "Of course when you get the attention you can do fuck all about it but at least you get them interested. Now if only I could keep them interested for the next month until they take the cast off."

His boss laughed. "You got something for me?" he nodded towards the papers in Jazz's hand.

The younger man nodded. "Email from the Governor at the jail where Rich ended up."

He had Spike's full attention now. "What did he want?"  
"It's more what Rich wants."

"Which is?"  
"He wants Mikey to go and see him. He says he has information for him."

"What sort of information?"

Jazz shrugged. "The Governor doesn't say. But his email makes it quite clear that it has to be Mikey that goes. Apparently Rich won't talk to anyone else."

Spike rubbed the beginnings of his beard with a rasping noise. He hadn't been home last night because a high profile case had come to an unexpected end. Derek's absence had left Spike dealing with the nitty gritty that he would normally delegate. He didn't begrudge Derek the time off he knew his second-in-command needed it, and the case had shown no sign of hotting up when Derek made the decision to take leave time. But last night it had all kicked off.

He wondered if he should try going to the prison himself anyway to save Derek a job. Jazz waited.

"When's Mikey due back?" Spike asked.

"Monday. But we're all meeting tonight for that team-building thing. You want me to mention it to him then?"

Spike shook his head.

"Nah. It's probably nothing. Email the Governor back and explain Mikey is on leave but he'll be there Monday."  
"Sure."

Spike regarded his junior for a moment. "Jazz, clear a spot on Monday afternoon for me to speak to Mikey at length somewhere off site."

"Sure thing. You want me to arrange a venue?"

"No. I'll deal with that."  
Jazz turned to go.

"Oh and Jazz?"

"Yeah boss?"

"Get someone to cover for you on Monday afternoon. I need you to come with us."

"Okay…" Jazz drew out the word cautiously.

"I think it's time we told Mikey the truth about Papillion."

* * *

"You're sure about this?" Casey asked as she watched Derek get strapped into his harness.

"Yup!" He grinned at her. "Quit freaking out about it."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not the one about to scale that wall."

"No. You're just worrying about me doing it."

"Why would I worry about you?" Casey lied. She was scared stiff that he would fall.

The guy finished buckling the safety harness and Derek stepped towards Casey.

"Because if _you_ decided to climb a sheer wall like that, I'd freak the fuck out too." He smiled. "Thankfully, you have more sense then I do…but that comes as no surprise to either of us. I'll be fine." He pressed his lips to her cheek and turned to join the couple of his colleagues who were patiently waiting for their turn to climb the wall.

Casey watched thoughtfully as Jazz said something to him. Another member of Derek's team gave Derek a high-five and Jazz pouted. He was still in crutches and therefore unable to take part.

Derek was half-way up the wall when the cheering started, closely followed by the whooping and cat-calls. For a moment, he tried to ignore the sounds from below, but eventually was forced by curiosity to look down and what he saw made him start swearing colourfully.

Casey, appropriately harnessed, was climbing up the wall beside him. She was rapidly gaining ground on Derek as he had frozen mid-climb unable to take his eyes off her approaching form. He could see her concentrating hard, her bottom lip caught between her teeth and her brow furrowed as she listened to the shouted instructions from below and pulled herself up. Once, she glanced upwards towards Derek but his eyes were cold and piercing, and she quickly looked down.

Derek began climbing again his anger pushing him forward and he reached the top first, but there was no victory in it. He released the ropes and brought himself quickly and gently to ground level. Once there, he unbuckled his harness and watched Casey descend equally gracefully.

As soon as her feet touched the ground safely he stormed off.

He avoided Casey for the most of the evening.

"What's biting you?" Jazz asked a while later.

Derek scowled. Jazz laughed.

"Oh man! That expression makes you look like my two-year old nephew." He smirked at Derek.

The latter muttered something about women being more hassle than they were worth – which made Jazz laugh again.

"Why do I get the feeling this is another of your foreplay fights? What did Casey do?"  
Derek became animated. "Are you shitting me? You saw what she did!"

Jazz shrugged. "She climbed the wall. So what? Good on her, she looked scared shitless all the way up but she did it."

His partner looked at him in horror. Jazz frowned.

"You're pissed because she managed the climb?"

"I'm pissed because I thought she had more sense than to put herself at risk like that."

"What was the risk? These organiser guys are experts. Besides, _you_ did it."

"That's not the point." Derek growled.

Jazz's eyes widened. "Oh. I see. She scared you. It's one thing to put yourself at risk; it's another thing to watch someone you love do it."

Derek's own eyes widened in fresh panic.

Jazz smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. I'm not going to say anything to anyone."

"That would be a first."

"Look Mikey, I get it. She's beautiful, intelligent and she challenges you. Plus you're both single – or at least neither of you is seeing anyone else. It's obvious to anyone with _half a brain_ that you two have something significant."

Derek rejected that idea immediately. "No one else seems to think that…you're the only one pulling fairy tales out of thin air."

Jazz scoffed. "The fact that I'm the only one pointing it out says more about the rest of this department than your relationship with Casey."

"I don't have a relationship with Casey."

"Oh yes you do. Even if you are both too stubborn to admit it."

Derek was silent.

After a moment, Jazz nudged his friend. "Look, it's just my opinion, but if you let relations between you sour over her climbing a rock wall…it's going to end in tears."

As if sensing she was being discussed, Casey looked up just as Derek looked across at her. It had been a couple of hours since Derek had stormed away from the wall and he still hadn't spoken to her. The climbing had finished sometime ago and they were all now tucking into burgers and beer which had been laid out on tables nearby. Whilst Casey had hung around and not just gone home, Derek could see that at some point she had taken herself off somewhere private and cried.

_Shit._

"It already has." Derek replied to Jazz, nodding towards Casey. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and cheeks puffy from already shed ones.

"Go fix it."

Casey was aware of Derek's approach but she didn't look up. She picked at the food on her plate awkwardly.

"You scared me." He said in simple explanation as he sat down beside her.

"You scare me frequently." Casey said in a quiet voice.

"I'm a scary guy." He retorted weakly. Casey's own laugh was equally hollow.

"Derek, I mean that your job is dangerous and I worry every day that you will arrive in my ER the way you did all those years ago.…"

He stopped her by brushing her hair from her face. "I know. I shouldn't expect you to put up with me taking risks and then complain when you take risks too."

"Your job is bad enough. But doing this in your spare time…"

"No more climbing. For me or you." He stated.

Casey said nothing but she did nod.

"Come on. You're leaving tomorrow and I'd rather not spend our last evening together arguing."

They both froze at the "last evening" statement. To most people it would mean nothing, but to a couple who had already been separated for seven years – thinking it was permanent the whole time – the idea of it happening again was painful.

"I mean last evening together until Sunday." Derek clarified. Casey nodded again.

He threw an arm around her shoulders and turned Casey towards his co-workers and began to introduce them.

Derek didn't let go of Casey for the rest of the evening.

* * *

"Have you programmed the address in?" Derek asked as Casey pottered about the bedroom.

"Yes. Although I don't need it. It's my apartment Derek and I've lived in London for many many years."

"Yeah but you'll get traffic updates if you run the GPS."

"I'll also be able to see what time I'll arrive so I always use it. Before you ask, my cell works through the car system so I won't need to take my hands off the wheel to answer the phone. I _am_ wearing warm underwear. And there is that under-the-counter can of Mace you gave me safely tucked in the pocket of the driver's door." She grinned at him. "I will be _fine_."

"It's a long way." He protested.

"I've driven it before. I want to bring some more of my things back with me this time so I need the car."

"I just…"

"You just need to let me breathe a little and maybe breathe yourself."

Derek stopped and took a deep breath.

"Give Marti my love." He said grasping the nettle firmly and steeling himself for what was turning out to be a difficult goodbye for him.

"I will. She's going to ask about seeing you. What do I say?"  
"I can't honey. Not right now."

Casey sighed. "I get it. Honestly I do. I just wish."

"Not as much as I do."

Casey knew he was right.

They said goodbye on the sidewalk next to the car. Derek in pyjamas and hastily pulled on sneakers with no socks, Casey looking particularly pretty this morning in a sweater a vivid shade of red and a new pair of jeans.

Derek pulled her close. "Be careful." He murmured close to her ear.

"You too. No going back to work while I'm away and if you have visitors be safe and tidy up after you."

Derek pulled back and frowned at her in astonishment. "What are you? My mother now?"  
"Of course not. Abby was much too lenient with you."

Derek rolled his eyes. "No visitors." He said re-establishing his grip on Casey. He kissed her cheek. "No random men in seedy bars with my sister."

"How about I book an escort and invite him to mine for an orgy with me, Lizzie and Marti?"  
"ha ha."

Casey grinned. "_How about_ we both agree to behave, be careful and be in touch?"

Derek smiled at her and came within a hair's breadth of saying something he was fairly sure he would regret afterwards. He didn't say it. But Casey's thoughts couldn't have been too far from his own.

"I'll miss you." She admitted.

"I'll miss me too." He joked.

"Derek."

He chuckled. "I'll miss you too." He agreed.

And then he watched as she climbed into her car, strapped herself in and then starting the engine pulled away from the kerb with a wave.


	3. The Family

The music was clear in the cool evening air; plucked guitar strings sounding the familiar refrain. Soft voices joined with the melody, some clearly knowing the words, the rest humming along to a tune they sort of knew, or maybe it was just the alcohol talking.

"Where have all the flowers gone…?" One voice in particular broke through the clear night, evidently knowing all the words to the famous protest song. The young woman's eyes burned with the feverishness of one who believed in her cause with a passion. She lifted her left hand to brush her brown hair from her eyes. (She would have used her right hand but it was currently handcuffed to a railing behind her.)

Beside her were sitting three of her closest friends: Stinker (a fourth year architecture student from Kingston whose real name was Wendal), Treesa (a third year med drop out whose real name was Theresa but had changed it by deed poll to "reflect my ecological beliefs") and Potty Patty (Patrick). They smiled at each other as they sang, ignoring the rain which was falling steadily on the Toronto streets.

"Any sign of the media yet?" Potty asked quietly so as not to disturb the singing. Lizzie shook her head at her sometime boyfriend.

"Are you sure Aston called them?" She whispered back.

"He swears he did. We need them here. There's no point in a protest if no one knows what you are protesting about and with the rain we're not even getting any passing …"

He broke off as the sound of cymbals and drums heralded the introductory notes of the old 90s classic Stevie V's "Money Talks". The music cut across the latest chorus of "flowers". Potty frowned at Lizzie who blushed as she fumbled with the homespun bag strung across her body.

"Whoops! Sorry. I forgot to switch my phone off."

"Who the hell has "Dirty Cash" as their ring tone?"

Lizzie grinned. "Someone with a brother in accountancy?" She found her phone and pressed "Answer?" just as the music got to the line "Dirty Cash I want you…"

"Hi Ed."

Edwin, sitting in his tiny office cubicle, lifted his legs nonchalantly to rest them on his desk and almost fell off his swivel chair – to the amusement of one of his co-workers.

"Hi Lizard! Just calling to see how you're doing. Can you talk or are you tied up?"

Liz glanced at her right wrist. "More like chained up but…yeah go ahead."

"Chained?"

"Long story."

"Oh…cool. Erm…I just wondered if you fancied grabbing a burger tonight?" he lowered his voice so that the inquisitive girl in the next cubicle couldn't hear. "I've…erm…been stood up and I'd put a deposit down on a table at that new restaurant in town."  
"Do they do veggie burgers?" Lizzie asked straining to hear as a commotion started nearby.

"Yeah…I guess."

"Then a burger sounds great." Lizzie looked up then and swallowed hard. "Erm…just one thing first, Edwin. Any chance you could come bail me out?" She asked as a uniformed cop approached her with a set of bolt cutters.

* * *

"Have you heard from Casey recently?" George asked his wife as they climbed into bed. Nora sighed.

"Not since last week. She's been on a run of lates recently and she's only awake when we're asleep."

George pulled his pillows up behind him so that he was in a seated position and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He liked to think that he looked the same as he had ten years ago, his hair a sort of non-descript colour rather than grey. But the reality was his hair before had been a grey sort of mousey and now it was a mousey sort of grey. Coupled with the slight deepening of a few facial creases and the tightening of a few joints that he told himself were just old "sporting" injuries, he was in denial about his aging. He reassured himself that he was coping with late middle age as well as Nora – who still didn't dye her hair and had managed to avoid crow's feet.

Nora, however, was well aware of her own aging. The "undyed" hair was Clairol's Nice and Easy Grey Solution Number four and her lack of crow's feet was partly down to Clarins and partly down to George's own need to get his eyes tested. She was realistic. She was a mother of six children albeit she gave birth to only three. She felt that her wrinkles and stretch marks were war wounds sustained under fire from twenty eight years of being a parent; the last seven having been particular vicious.

Now she glanced at her husband. It wasn't exactly unusual for him to pay attention to the kids' lives these days but over the years he had adopted a "don't ask, don't tell" philosophy. And frankly, Nora couldn't blame him.

"Why do you ask?"  
George shrugged. "I just wondered how she was getting on in Ottawa. It was such a bolt out of the blue when she upped sticks, and it's been four months I just…"

"She's doing fine...really well, actually." interrupted Nora. "She seemed happy when I spoke to her. She has a nice apartment and her job is going well."

George looked relieved, but there was still something nagging at him.

"Any clue as to why she made the move?" He asked.

Nora frowned. "She says that she just realised that we all have to move on from…past events. She realised that she needed a new start where no one knew her and where she could rebuild her life."

George nodded. "Sounds reasonable to me. That's what we did by moving to Toronto."

Nora paused. "I think Casey's break is a bit more dramatic than that." She said. "But, I still wouldn't hold your breath about her coming with us for…_to_ London this year."

Neither of them said the phrase "Derek's anniversary". Anything "Derek" was still very difficult for them to share.

"Do you think she was right?" George asked after a moment's pause.

"So long as she's happy…"  
"No." George interrupted. "I meant what she said at Christmas about marking…Der…Derek's death."

Nora stared at her husband. George so rarely spoke his eldest son's name and the thought that he was still considering Casey's words was just…

"I think that Casey, at least, has learnt to properly move on. It's as though her grief has run its course."

"Marti seems to be sorting herself out too." George pointed out. "Simon seems a nice guy, just exactly what she needs."

"Each person needs to do what's necessary to handle grief." Nora noted. "Why?"

Her husband leaned back against the headboard.

"I was thinking about maybe doing something different this year – to mark the anniversary."

Nora was stunned. "Like?"

"I was thinking maybe we could take a vacation."

"A vacation?" Nora's words were confused.

George smiled. "Don't worry. I don't mean a road trip. I'll pay for the flights. I was thinking more that maybe we could all go and see Casey in Ottawa. You know it will be Fall then and the leaves will be turning and…"

"Not go to London?"

George sighed. "I think Casey's right, Nora. I think maybe we've become too ritualistic in our marking of Derek's death. We're not big on religion in the household and Derek was never one for rules. He'd hate to think that anyone missed out on a good vacation just because he died."

His wife smiled lovingly at him. "You know, I think that's a great idea. And if we give Casey plenty of notice maybe she'll decide not to work that day. It would be good for her to have a break."

They were quiet in each other's company for a few moments.

"There's a guy, isn't there?" George said eventually. "For Casey, I mean. She only ever does stuff like this when there's a guy."

Nora grinned. "You know…I think there might very well be."

"Then we should definitely go to Ottawa. I can't wait to meet the guy that helped Casey get over Derek."

They looked at each other uneasily. "Does that sound as hooky to you as it did to me?" George asked nervously.

"Uh huh."

* * *

"Ralph! For the last time, Dude, move your cell phone before she…" Sam's voice broke off as his daughter, beautiful, bright, cheeky - and now crawling– scooped up his friend's cell phone and dropped it a glass of beer at his feet.

"Oh shi-shoot!" Ralph exclaimed, changing his words at the last minute as he spotted Ruth raising an eyebrow pointedly.

Sam retrieved the device from the sticky drink and sprinted into the kitchen to run water over it.

"Erm…Sam…Dude. What are you doing?" Ralph asked, following Sam and then watching him rinse his phone under the tap.

"It's not the water that would kill the phone, it's the stickiness. If we wash the beer away the phone might survive."

Ralph frowned. "Oh…how do you know this?"

"Because he's on his third cell phone in six weeks." Ruth said from the doorway, a babbling Amelia Casey now balanced on her hip.

The errant baby was asleep in her cot, cute little raspy breaths audible in the living room due to the monitor in the corner. But Ralph still wasn't taking any chances, the beer was up high on the fireplace and his cell was in pieces drying out near the radiator.

"How's Casey?" Ralph asked Sam reaching for his beer.

Sam shrugged. "Okay I guess."  
"You don't know?" Ralph queried.

"We don't talk regularly anymore she's…"

"Pah! She doesn't call _you_ anymore because you hassle her about Mikey." Ruth interrupted taking a sip of her solitary glass of wine. She didn't imbibe much but special occasions like Ralph coming round for tea she could be persuaded to have a small glass.

"I do not ha…" Sam objected.

"You do, Sam. You start on about Mikey being an axe-murderer or just after her for her access to drugs – which you know very well she doesn't have."

Sam pulled a face. "We know nothing about him and…"  
"We know he's a _cop_." Ruth said tilting her head and fixing him with _the_ look. Like all wives, she had perfected "the look".

Ralph shrugged. "A cop's good." He nodded.

"He's not a cop." Sam pointed out. "He's RCMP!"

Ralph frowned. "RCMP…you mean like…a _mountie_?"

Sam smirked. "Yeah."

"Dude…don't those guys wear… like…tight pants?"

"Yup! And…"

"Don't Samuel!" Ruth interrupted. "I've had it up to _here_ with the Mountie jokes okay?"  
Sam, looking suitable chastised nodded but when his wife's back was turned he winked at Ralph who covered his own smirk by going for a sip of his beer.

"I think it's wrong of you to make fun of the guy that Casey's chosen to live with." Ruth announced.

Ralph spat out his beer as Sam exclaimed. "Casey's done _what?_"

"She's living with him. I thought you knew." Ruth said innocently.

Sam looked at his wife aghast.

"No I most definitely did _not_ know. You said she had a new apartment. You said she talks about Mikey a lot. You did _not_ tell me that they were living in sin."

Ruth laughed. "Oh bless you Sam! You sound like your grandmother! The apartment is Mikey's but I don't think there's much sinning going on." She grinned to herself. "In fact, though she hasn't said anything, I think that is a bit of a sore point with Casey. They really are just roommates and it's frustrating her."

Sam looked livid. "How can you keep this from me?"  
Ruth looked uncomfortable. "Honestly? Because Casey asked me to. She seemed to think that you wouldn't handle it very well. Clearly she was right."

Ralph in an effort to dissolve the tension asked a couple of questions about Casey's new "love interest" and Ruth answered them carefully.

She was amused and annoyed by her husband's reaction in equal measures. Ruth understood the relationship Sam had with Casey. It had taken a couple of years of observation but now she realised he was more of a big brother than Derek had ever been. She also understood Casey's reluctance to let Sam know about the developments in her life. A girl deserved the right to some privacy to make her own decisions.

Later, as Ralph brought into the kitchen his glass and the empty bowls from the dips she had provided, he put a reassuring hand on Ruth's back.

"He was never going to take it well." He said. "He's always been a bit too anal about Casey's well-being."  
Ruth nodded. "I know. It was one of the most endearing things about him – the way that he felt the need to protect the women around him."

"Is she really okay?"

Ruth turned and smiled at Ralph, the guy who it was so easy to dismiss because of his ingenuous nature. Sometimes however he could be very perceptive; kind of "out of the mouths of babes".

"She's fine, Ralph. Really happy."

"Good." Ralph stated. "Anything has got to be better than hanging around my joint every night."

"It's hard to picture this Casey being that Casey anymore."

"And you think it's down to Mikey?"

"Yes."

"Then he's an okay guy in my book."

* * *

Simon lay watching Marti sleep. Her once-brown hair was now flashed with locks a delicate lilac colour and encroached on his pillow. He smiled affectionately as she sighed her naked shoulders the only part of her body visible above the comforter. They had been a couple a relatively short time and lovers for even less but he already knew she was "the one". It wasn't about the first rush of lust or the heady emotions of new love although they were still very present. It was about the way she had supported him through the last month when his friend had been killed in a car accident. It was the way she always knew the right thing to say, and how she knew when he needed company – and when he didn't. True love was not about passion, though that was important. What turned love into its truest form was the comfort you felt together or apart; the way you automatically relaxed the moment your partner walked into the room, even if it was only emerging from the bathroom. He reached forward and pressed a kiss against her temple.

Marti smiled. "You staring at me again?" she murmured sleepily, her eyes still closed.

Simon chuckled. "Hell yes! Naked woman in bed with me, what else did you expect me to look at?"

Marti giggled and turned onto her back, pulling the comforter away from his body.

"Hey!" he protested.

"Come on…Share and share alike!" She commented. "If you can ogle me, I can ogle you."

"I'll do more than ogle you." He said, leaning over her, his eyes flashing with something dark and rather tempting.

"Promises, promises." Marti grinned and then sat up slightly to curve her hand around the back of his neck and pull him down onto her. "You owe me."

"Oh? How come?" He grinned.

"Payment for your voyeurism." She smiled and then kissed him in a way that held real promise."

"Payment? Well I guess I should settle my debt. Neither a borrower nor a lender be."

They both chuckled and then all speech was lost.

Much later, Marti was curled up in the curve of Simon's arm while he played with her fingers on his chest.

"Are you happy?" He asked.

"God no!" Marti commented. "You make me so miserable…boo hoo." She smirked. "Why? You want to trade me in for a model that giggles more?"

Simon smiled. "No. I just want to know if you're as happy with us as I am."

Marti looked at him seriously and put her hand up to cup the side of his face. "Do you really need to ask?"

"Sorry…but yes. I just can't believe that this is real. You've been so much to me over the past few months, this last month in particular. I wouldn't have gotten through it without you."  
"That's nonsense. Of course you would."  
"Okay. What I mean is you made it a hell of a lot more bearable."

"I've been there, Si. I know what it's like to lose someone special."

"I know. But it's not just your experience…it's your compassion and your love. I want to spend all my time with you. I can't think of a future without you in it."

A lump swelled and threatened Marti's throat. "That's so…" She started but couldn't finish.

"I love you Marti. With everything I have."

"I love you too."

"I think it only fair to tell you that I've started saving up for a big rock to go on that ring finger of yours so don't get any ideas about dumping _me_ for a model that snores less."

Simon's snoring (or lack there of) was an in joke between them. They had two standard jokes: Simon's snoring (it was actually Marti that snored) and Simon's height (he didn't have any).

Marti swallowed past the wave of emotion his words provoked. The truth was she felt exactly the same. This was more than just a first love scenario for her. They had supported each other through a difficult few months, and although Simon hadn't been around at the time of Derek's death, in the short time they had known each other, he had played a big part in her coming to terms with her grief – even after they had both became aware that the cause of the grief was non-existent.

"I don't know what to say." Marti managed eventually.

"You don't have to say anything…yet. Besides, I don't have permission to ask you anything."

Marti laughed. "Dad should say yes. You're the ideal son-in-law. You have a clean rap sheet, you laugh at his jokes and you don't drink all his beer."

"I think he likes me." Simon said, cautiously.

Marti smirked and got ready to run. "Oh he does…of course he'd rather he didn't need a step-ladder to shake your hand…"

Simon's eyes widened. "Oh you think you're so funny…" He started. Marti leapt off the bed and made for the door with Simon in hot pursuit, neither of them paying any attention to the fact that they were running around completely naked. Marti giggled and shrieked as she fled past Casey's bedroom door and into the living room.

"You take that back." Simon said, circling the couch the opposite side to Marti.

"Or what?" She asked giggling.

"Or suffer the consequences." Simon said, climbing up and over the couch in a flash and grabbing Marti by the elbows. He smirked at her, twisted her round and backed her into the couch.

"Now then." He said, his hand falling to her naked hips. "You don't make jokes about my height." He ran an extended finger over Marti's backside. "Shall we settle this here? Or in the bedroom?"

Marti's eyes sparkled. "Why waste the energy walking to the bedroom?" She said seductively. "Here's perfectly fine."

Simon pressed their bodies together and leaned forward to claim Marti's mouth with his own.

There was a rustling noise from the direction of the front door and then the clear sound of a key being inserted into the lock.

Marti sat up suddenly pushing Simon off her.

"Shit! Someone's at the door!" She flew off the couch and smacked him on the arm to get him to move.

"Who is it?" Simon whispered following her towards their bedroom. "Your parents?"

"Worse." Marti hissed back. "The only person with a key is Casey."

The front door started to open.


	4. Recap

It was a relief to pull up beside the kerb. Casey switched off the ignition and leaned forward against the steering wheel, her folded arms resting against the black leather and her forehead resting on her arms.

Almost immediately, her phone rang.

"Are you there yet?" Derek asked with impatience. Casey leaned back and rolled her eyes.

"Yes. I just got here."

"What took you so long?"

"Well, quite apart from the irritating phone-calls I kept receiving from my annoying b…est friend every half an hour, the traffic was awful, and at one point I fell asleep."  
"While you were driving?"

"Of course not. I meant during a rest stop."

"But you're there?"  
"Yes I'm here. And it looks as though Marti is too." Casey said, squinting through the windshield. "I can see her car parked outside and a light on inside the apartment."

"Give her my love." His voice was subdued.

"I will."

"And be careful." Derek insisted. It had taken Casey a while to get used to Derek saying things like that. When they had been teenagers she didn't think she had ever heard him express that kind of desire. She fought the temptation to call him out on it, and treated it instead with the kind of dismissiveness that she would had Nora said it.

"Derek, this is our family I'm going to be seeing. I know the area and I know the people. What on earth do you think is going to happen?"  
"Oh I don't know…you could maybe fall down the stairs and bite someone's ass." He quipped, eager to introduce some humour into his over-protective mood.  
"That was your fault and since you are many hours away from me right now, I think I am perfectly safe from that." Casey retorted snottily.

"Okay…how about the pissed off kingpin who paid someone to kill me and almost succeeded?" he said suddenly serious.

"Derek…" And his mood flipped a lot more these days as he was forced to consider consequences – both of his and others' actions. Derek found himself in turmoil particularly when it came to the thought of losing Casey.

"Casey, just watch yourself, okay?" He sounded really concerned and Casey sighed.

"I'll watch myself…" She started. "On condition, you take equally good care and _don't_ go sneaking into work because you are bored."

Derek, alone in their apartment, put on an oh-so-innocent expression. "Who…me?"  
"Yes you. I know you and your workaholic tendencies. Stay home, Derek."

"I'll try. But there's only so many hockey re-runs a guy can watch on his own."

"You watch old hockey all the time when I'm there."

"I know, because it winds you up." He grinned. "There's no point if you aren't here."  
"Moron." She said affectionately. He smiled.

"Be careful, love."

"You too." Casey noted the slip with the affectionate term and took a deep breath. "I should get inside. I didn't tell Marti I was coming and there's probably no food in the apartment. We'll need to go out or something."  
"Okay. Have fun."

"I'd say the same to you, only I don't trust what I'd be sanctioning. Girls…bars…card games."

Derek chuckled. "I'm a good guy these days."

"Yeah and I'll believe that when I see it. Night hun!"

"Night hun." Derek said, hanging up and resigning himself to a night in…alone.

* * *

Casey had packed one solitary bag, so it took just a minute to empty the car and lock it. She made her way into the building in a sort of daze, the journey catching up on her again.

The building with its keypad entry was familiar but it lacked the warmth of the apartment in Ottawa. Deep down Casey knew that it had nothing to do with the lack of a friendly welcome from a security guard and the brightness of the entrance foyer – and everything to do with the fact that her _home_ now was definitely in the apartment she shared with Derek. When Marti was finished with this apartment, Casey would have no qualms about letting it go.

As she placed her key in the lock, Casey probably should have rung the doorbell to warn Marti. She was well aware that her youngest sister had a boyfriend these days and she was certain that he, like her sister, still lived at home. Casey smiled. There was also probably a fair chance that, given Casey's generous nature as regards her London apartment, neither of them spent much time with their parents.

The truth was, however, that the first she realised that her arrival might not be 100% welcome was when the opening of her front door heralded the sudden slamming of Marti's own door.

Slightly confused and very tired, Casey entered the living room, dragging her case behind her and closed the front door. As soon as it was shut, she dropped the handle of her case, walked to the couch and flopped into it dramatically, closing her eyes.

A moment later she opened them and to her surprise they lighted immediately on a pair of playboy bunny boxer shorts discarded against the back of the couch. Either Marti had changed her taste in under garments or Simon was staying.

On balance, Casey decided the latter was the most likely – and that she had interrupted something.

In fact, when she stood up and looked around properly the living room bore evidence of some sort of frenzied shedding of clothes, the crowning glory being a rather bright blue bra with red polka dots which was draped over a Tiffany style lamp on a side table.

For a moment, Casey was annoyed; annoyed that her sister had taken advantage of her generous nature and instigated carnal relations in Casey's _living room_; annoyed that her _younger_ sister had a more successful love life than she did.

Casey reprimanded herself. She could be churlish about Marti and Simon "getting it on" in her apartment, or she could be the understanding elder sister who realised how difficult it was to get "alone" time when you lived with parents. She knew that Marti was being sensible, because she herself had talked the issue through with her and she knew enough of Marti's character to know that she would have listened and acted on Casey's advice.

And then the recently-formed "Derek"-side of her psyche kicked in, and she got the humour of the situation. In fact, the Derek-side of her sense of humour was currently on steroids because she crossed the floor and stood outside Marti's door.

"Yes Derek, I got here safely." Casey announced in a loud voice. "No I haven't seen Marti yet but I'm fairly sure she's in the apartment. She'll be in her room…with Simon. Yes, I'm sure Simon's here…unless Marti has started wearing men's shorts. Playboy bunnies…black and red. I know you probably don't want to know about Simon's shorts but it's a little hard to ignore them or bras when they are hanging from the light-fittings. Derek, don't you think that's a little harsh. I'm sure it was more Marti _deflowering_ Simon rather than the other way around. And I certainly don't think _that_ was what they had in mind when they gave you your gun licence!"

Marti's door opened and a very sheepish-looking Marti emerged, now fully dressed, and closed the door behind her.

"Hi." She said timidly.

"Hi." said Casey, hiding her smirk.

"Is he angry?"

Casey raised an eyebrow, leant against the wall and folded her arms.

"He doesn't know." She said. "No phone…see?" She wiggled her fingers out from where they were tucked.

Marti's eyes widened.

"Oh…are _you_ angry?"

Casey straightened. "Angry at what? That I walked in on you and Simon getting naked because I didn't have the courtesy to phone and warn you?"

Marti winced. "Actually, we'd been naked for a while. It was sort of…"

"Round two?" Casey asked and this time the smirk broke through. _I really am turning into Derek_. Casey thought, although she knew Derek would never sanction Marti having a sex life.

Marti coughed in surprise. "Who are you and what did you do with my sister?"

Casey laughed and then rubbed at her face with the heels of her hands.

"I'm tired Smarts. I've been driving all day. Is there any food in the apartment?"

"Erm…no. We were going to order in. You want to join us? For the food, I mean."

"Chinese?"

"You know me too well." Marti replied with a grin.

"Clearly, not as well as Simon." Casey rejoined.

"Casey!" Marti chided and then as they walked into the living room… "You've spent too much time with my no-good brother."

* * *

Simon was in love with Marti – and the feeling was mutual. _That_ fact was as obvious as the slightly too-large nose on his otherwise attractive face. Casey snuck side-ways glances at him several times as they ate, making the kind of critical assessment that she knew Derek was going to require when she got home. He didn't use lots of affectionate terms as he spoke, although there were some. It was less obvious: Simon had his whole body turned towards Marti and Casey couldn't help notice that their bodies were always touching in some way. She liked it. It was understated and strangely familiar although Casey drew the line at comparing Simon's actions with Derek's.

Casey wanted a shower and a change of clothes after her long day, and for common decency's sake, Marti and Simon decided separate showers for them were in order too. The food was duly ordered and had arrived by the time the three of them were once again dressed and together in the living room. They were sitting down to eat before Marti got a chance to ask Casey what she was doing back in London.

"Did you and Derek have a fight?" then Marti frowned. "What am I asking? Of course you had a fight…I meant did he kick you out or you leave him?"

Casey laughed. "Leave him? You make it down like we're _together_ or something! No. I didn't leave him. I took a week's vacation and it occurred to me that I hadn't seen you guys for a while so I'm here for a long weekend; kind of a vacation from Derek." She giggled.

Marti had raised an eyebrow at Casey's denial of her "couple-hood".

Although Marti couldn't see them interact together, she was fairly sure there was something going on there somewhere - unless Derek was being Derek and Casey was being Casey of course…

Marti groaned inwardly and then smiled "That's awesome!" Marti said covering the internal dialogue she was currently having with her heart and her common sense. "Dad and Nora will be excited to see you. And Robbie…they all miss you a lot."  
"I miss them too." Casey said.

"But you're happy in Ottawa?" Marti asked.

Casey paused, a forkful of food halfway to her mouth. "Am I happy?"

She hadn't really thought about it. Before she had been painfully aware how _unhappy_ she was after Derek's death, but did that meant that her new life in Ottawa (where he was alive and well, living with and pranking her) made her happy?

Of course it did. Okay, maybe there were things she would like to change: the feeling of uncertainty because her new life was still so _temporary_ and Derek was such a Will-o'-the-wisp, and the fact that she was hiding a major secret from the majority of her family being just two. But, day-to-day, the fact that someone she loved deeply was alive when she had thought him dead…how could she be anything other than happy?

"Yes. I'm happy." She answered Marti's question.

Marti smiled, her own mind guessing fairly accurately what had caused the pause while Casey contemplated her answer.

"Is he behaving?" Marti grinned. Casey chuckled.

"No. But I can live with it. I _am_ living with _it_!"

Simon watched the two women, appreciating that they weren't trying to cut him out with all the knowing looks and unspoken communications between them. Marti had filled him in on the Derek-Casey dynamic. For a while he had pondered how a couple who apparently _hated_ each other could need each other so badly that they had gravitated together against the odds. But now he could see the renewed sparkle in Casey's eyes and the general improvement in her overall health and appearance since he had last seen her…and he knew that Marti was right when she claimed, rather dramatically, that Derek and Casey did not live when they were apart.

"I wish I could see him." Marti said a while later as they exchange news and Casey shared a few Derek-isms from the last few months.

Casey sighed. "I know. Derek wants to see you too. He misses you Smarti and it hurts him to know that he's missed so much of you growing up. But, his life is still in danger and he doesn't want that danger to touch you and the rest of the family."  
"He lets you in."  
"I know. But, honestly…I'm not sure how permanent an arrangement that is. If he thought I was in significant danger he would probably send me away or disappear himself. It took a lot of fast talking after the last incident to get him to agree to let me stay."

Marti had heard some of the story of Papillion but not all of it, so Casey took the time to tell the tale properly – leaving out things like the kissing and the bed-sharing. There was no need for Marti to get ideas about a relationship that didn't exist.

Casey needn't have bothered with the editing. By the time Marti went to bed that night, Simon beside her, she was convinced that her sister was in love with her brother.

When she'd allowed that phrase to flit across her mind, she realised that sometimes four little letters were really _very_ important. And, oxymoron or not, there is no such thing as "same difference".

* * *

Casey, meanwhile, took a few moments to glance around her room. Although she owned the whole apartment, most of her personal possessions were located in this one space. Marti had shipped a few items to her when she had made the decision to accept the Ottawa secondment, but the majority of her life was still here in this room.

But the room didn't feel like home. She crossed to the dresser and picked up one of the photos there – a photo which included Derek – but it was at least seven years old. She replaced the picture and looked at her walls. They had framed posters from theatre trips she had made while at college – again more than seven years ago. She spun suddenly and looked at her bed-linen; even that, whilst clean and in good repair, was more than seven years old.

The evidence was clear. Before her trip to Ottawa, Casey had been living firmly in the past.

The bed squeaked as she sat down heavily, the thought of how far she had sunk in the time since the trauma of Derek's "death" was almost as depressing as the event itself. She found tears on her cheeks and brushing them away seemed only seemed to make them come faster.

Derek answered on the first ring.

"Hey McDonald! Can't you go more than a couple of hours without talking to me? And you were moaning about my phone-calls on the way there…"

Casey burst into tears.

It look several goes, blows and "No"s before he worked out what the problem was. His initial guesses of someone being hurt/dead he was happy to discard but they left one niggling doubt in his mind – that maybe she was calling to say that she wasn't coming back.

"Grief is harsh, sweetheart." He said softly, when they'd got past that misconception. "I felt the same about losing…all of you." He took a deep breath. "We're past it now. We've moved on. Let's chalk it up to a bad few years and get on with the future."

"It was seven years, D!" Casey protested. "Not a few years."

"Seven unimportant years which were superseded by subsequent events."

"I just…"

Derek leaned back in his recliner in their Ottawa home and closed his eyes.

"Casey, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I of all people know that. Princess, I don't know what else to say. You know me. I don't do _feelings_. Maybe when you get back you should find another Paul."  
"A what?"  
"A counsellor. Someone who can talk you through things."  
"How can I? I can't tell them about you."

"Why not. You don't need to give names and dates. Lie! It always works for me."

"Der-ek!" Casey objected. "You don't _lie_ to your counsellor. It's…unethical!"

Derek sniggered. "Let's face it Casey. You just have a problem with lying full stop."

"I lie. I lie all the time." She protested. He laughed again.

"You know, sweetheart, maybe for the first time you just did…congratulations!"

"Do you lie to me?" She asked after a second's pause.

"Yeah! All the time." He quipped back.

"Oh."

"But not about the important stuff, okay?" He said softly…affectionately. "I mean I only lie about the stuff I can get away with…and you know me too well."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You mean I'm the only person who appreciates your true identity?"  
"Exactly. As I appreciate yours. I guess lots of people would be shocked to find out you are really a Russian pole-dancer called Anna."

"Ha ha! You think you are so amusing."

"It deflected you nicely."

"That's your standard answer any time I get upset about something isn't it? To irritate me?"

"Works for me."  
"Moron."

"You missing me yet?"  
"Like a hole in my head."

"How was dinner?"

"You're irritating, you know that?"

Derek shrugged. "It's my role in life."  
"Pissing me off?"

"Nope. Reminding you about what's important."  
"And what is important, Derek?"  
"Exactly…me…_Derek_!"

Casey gave up and laughed. Derek relaxed. He hated tears – that was a given. He hated Casey's tears because they tore at parts of him he sometimes had to lock away and pretend didn't exist.

"You know what I would do, if I was you?"

"No…enlighten me." Casey braced herself for another bout of Derek-humour. But instead he surprised her.

"I would go through my things tomorrow and split them into two piles: things I want to see on a daily basis, and things I don't. Then I would box up the latter, label it and put it away in Dad and Nora's attic."

"And the rest?"

"Bring it home with you, princess. There's too many of _my_ things in _our_ apartment."


	5. Bad News

Derek really did plan to listen to Casey and behave himself – honestly…he did. But what exactly is a semi-single guy supposed to do when his (in)significant other is away visiting family and there aren't any hockey re-runs on the TV?

He wrestled with his conscience for a while that night. He saw how upset she was over the whole "dying" thing and he really didn't want her to go through that again. But he needed something to do.

Derek, these days, wasn't idle. Funny huh? The guy who had previously had idleness (off the ice) down to a fine art, was now a workaholic. It had less to do with him caring about his job and more about him not wanting the time to think…about what he had left behind…about _who_ he had left behind.

By the time he got off the phone with Casey he had wasted an evening nicely…but it still left the following morning – scratch that- the whole day.

Derek had been a cop too long to let a Casey-free day go to waste.

* * *

"I thought you were on vacation?" Graham – Duty Sergeant- said as Derek/Mikey signed in the following day; day two of Casey's absence.

The latter mumbled something about "Stir crazy" and Graham laughed.

"You're insane. If I had a chick as hot as that waiting for me at home, the last fucking place I'd be is the office."

Mikey rolled his eyes and stated. "I don't live with a "chick" I live with Casey. It's like living with Mother Theresa only slightly less fun. Besides she's visiting her parents."

"Oh…" said Graham spotting the slight upturn of Mikey's mouth when he said Casey's name. "Oh…it all becomes clear." He was smirking.

"You're an ass-hole." Mikey stated, shaking his head at the smirk. "Is lane four free?"

As well as a pussy-whipped wimp, Mikey had clearly become OCD. Lane four of the basement shooting range was now his preferred lane.

"Yup. You spend much more time there and I'm gonna labelled it "Essen End"."

"Didn't know you were into bondage." Mikey quipped and when the joke fell flat, "Nevermind."

The way "Mikey" saw it, he wasn't exactly disobeying Casey. She had told him not to go into work…and he hadn't…exactly. Instead he had decided to take a turn in the shooting range, improving his aim. Just him and his side arm in the relative quiet of the sound-proof gallery.

Except…step a foot inside the office building and…

"Hi Mikey!" Jazz had waited until Mikey laid his gun on the counter to change the paper target before tapping him on the shoulder.

"Hey Jazz!" Mikey removed the ear-defenders and sounded pleased to see his friend because for a moment he deluded himself that the grapevine hadn't worked and the chain of command upstairs hadn't caught wind of Mikey's presence downstairs.

"I thought you were on vacation?" Jazz asked. He knew exactly why Mikey was here. He knew that Casey had gone away and that Mikey was at a loose end. It appeared that the only thing Jazz still didn't know about his friend was Mikey's real name.

"Boredom." Mikey replied.

"Where's Casey?" Jazz said, as expected.

"Seeing the folks." Mikey replied. "What are you doing down here? I thought quiet days were your days for hanging around public parks chatting up sun-worshipping goddesses."

"In April? That's only fun in the bikini season. Besides, I'm no good at the chase with a gammy leg."  
"Sympathy vote?"

Jazz laughed. "Not a chance. Anyway, I'm in the office clearing the backlog left by your absent ass."

"Hey! I'm due time off. Don't blame me for taking it."

Mikey knew his friend was joking. But he caught an edge to Jazz's answering grin.

"What is it?" He asked suddenly serious.

"What's what?" Jazz hedged.

"The reason why you're down here and suddenly looking as guilty as hell."

Jazz sighed. "You're paranoid."  
"No. Just realistic – and a good reader of personalities. You, my friend are hiding something. Either you spit it out or I'm going back to peppering ol' paper Pete here." Mikey turned back to the firearm and checked its chambers.

"Has Spike spoken to you?" Jazz asked his friend's back.

Mikey turned around again abruptly.

"About what?"

Jazz looked uneasy. "I probably shouldn't say anything."

Mikey put down the gun and gave him his full attention.

"But…?"

"The governor of Rich's prison has been in touch. Apparently, Rich wants to see you."

Mikey leaned back against the counter and folded his arms.

"Does he now?" he murmured cautiously.  
"Yeah. He has information to share, so Spike asked me to make you an appointment for Monday."

"What's wrong with now?" Mikey wasn't sure he wanted to wait. An offer of information from Rich _after_ he'd plea-bargained was strange. If it was major intelligence, why wait until after it had the ability to affect his sentence…unless it was only important to one person…Mikey.

"You're on leave." Jazz protested.

"We're cops, Jazz. We're never on leave. Come on. I'll drive."

* * *

"We were expecting you on Monday." The Governor said, standing as Mikey and Jazz entered the room.

"Yeah…well you got us today." Jazz replied shortly. Mikey rolled his eyes at his friend's bluntness.

"What's this about?" He asked the prison official genially before shaking the guy's proffered hand and sitting down in the indicated chair.

The governor shrugged. "We were hoping you could tell us. He's refusing point blank to talk to anyone else and he is requesting all sorts of breaks with convention and rules for the meeting."  
"Rules such as?" Mikey prompted.

"He wants the monitoring equipment switched off, the room swept for bugs and he wants to see you on his own…no guards."  
Jazz snorted. "He's insane! As if we'd allow that. He'd probably shank Mikey in the blink of an eye."

Mikey said nothing. His mind was working hard.

The governor shook his head. "Richard isn't showing any signs of animosity towards Mr Essen. And he isn't objecting to the use of the Perspex screen and telephone. It appears he just doesn't want a witness to what he is going to say to you."  
There was a pause whilst Mikey took in what the Governor was saying to him. The details weren't bizarre exactly just…well they led Mikey to only one conclusion.

"Okay." He said. "Provided it is behind a screen I agree to his terms."

"Mikey…" Jazz objected.

His friend turned to him. "He's harmless, Jazz. The worst he can do is through his words and he is the one specifying that he doesn't want anyone to overhear us. There's no risk."  
"But…"  
"I'll do it." Mikey turned to the senior warden in front of him. "Now. I'm not hanging around."  
"What about Spike?" Jazz asked.

"What about Spike? It's me Rich has asked to see. Not Spike." Mikey nodded to the Governor. "I'm doing this, Jazz. You can come with me if you like but I'm going to meet him."

The Governor picked up the phone and began to relay the appropriate series of instructions.

* * *

It had been only a couple of months since Mikey had last seen Rich. Since he had plea-bargained there had been no need for a prolonged trial, just a short sentencing hearing a month after his arrest. Then he had been in a tailored suit sitting beside his attorney.

The man the other side of the Perspex screen bore no relation to the guy Mikey had shared conversations about ice hockey with over bad coffee. He was broken, weary and looked more than twenty years older than his actual age.

Mikey drew a breath, pulled his shoulders back and walked to the plastic chair he was expected to sit on.

Visitors to this particular room had few choices about the procedures. They were required to sit on the seat, look at the screen and enter into a discussion with the inmate on the other side. Neither could touch the other, and Mikey noted that "seeing" Rich wasn't exactly easy. The Perspex was more translucent than transparent; pitted and cloudy where heavy objects and closed fists had been thrown against it. It was a bizarre concept – inmate anger- when you looked at the figure on the opposite side.

One choice Mikey did have as a visitor to this room with its bleak décor was the option to listen to Rich through the telephone handset provided, or to flick the switch which enabled him to relay the shared speech to the entire room. Since the room was empty apart from Mikey and Jazz, and the former had no desire to become intimately acquainted with the un hygienic mouthpiece of the "phone", he flicked the switch. Rich did the same.

"Mikey." Rich began, nodding. Mikey nodded back.

"Why am I here?" Mikey asked eager to have his concerns dismissed so that he could return to his vacation.

Rich glanced over at Jazz.

"I said only you, Mikey." He pointed out. "There was no invitation to bring spectators."

"You have information? I need Jazz to hear it." Mikey said. "He's my partner."

Rich leaned back in his chair.

"And you _trust_ him?" The tone of his voice was an amused one. "Ha! I'm surprised any of you trust anyone in that charade of a department."

"I trust him." Mikey confirmed.

Over the past three months Mikey had realised it would be a cold day in hell before he believed Jazz guilty of any wrong-doing.

"You trusted me too." Rich hadn't lost his amusement, but it made no difference.

Mikey hardened his look. "I've changed my criteria since then." He stated.

"I'll bet you have!" Rich chuckled.

"It's my decision." Mikey said. "Not yours."  
Rich shrugged. "Sure…although I thought _you_ of all people would want to restrict access to the information I'm prepared to share."

A shiver ran down Mikey's spine, and all the buried concern and many _many_ questions rose to his tongue.

"Why? What's so special about this information?" He asked and Jazz heard a wavering note to Mikey's voice. It was uncharacteristic. Mikey was a consummate interrogator. He never lost his cool in the briefing room.

"Why me?" Mikey asked. "Why not Spike or Jazz?"  
Rich snorted. "Oh come on _Derek_! Don't make idiots of the both of us!"

_Derek_'s eyes widened. Jazz looked confused.

Before either of them could say anything, Rich had leaned forward to Derek and jerked his head in Jazz's direction.

"Still want to have this conversation in front of him?"

* * *

Over the many years, Derek had _become_ Mikey. He got used to hearing the latter name and reacting to it quite quickly. After a couple of months of his new name, it was second nature. He found that with the departure of his birth name he managed to shed aspects of himself of which he wasn't too fond. Nearly dying of a gun-shot wound to the head and "losing" his family had added a gravitas to his character that hadn't been there before.

Of course he had lost far more than just his carefree nature, and it had been like pulling on a nicely worn pair of jeans when he picked up his Derek Venturi identity again on Casey's re-appearance in his life. He had begun to enjoy the sound of his real name from someone else's lips – usually it sounded like "Der-ek!"

He wasn't sure he liked the sound his name made coming from the lips of the guy opposite.

It scared the shit out of him.

Derek stared at Rich.

"I asked if you still wanted to have this conversation in front of him." Rich pointed out.

"I know. I heard you." Derek answered. With a deep breath, he turned and looked at Jazz.

Jazz stared back at him.

Derek couldn't blame his friend for the look of confusion in his eyes. He knew how he would feel if someone he trusted with his life – owed his life to – suddenly started to show signs of hiding something. Derek wouldn't like it and he knew that Jazz, despite his apparently calm exterior was probably warring with himself inside. Derek blew out a deep breath. Jazz was the closest thing (aside from Casey) that he had to a friend. If he didn't trust Jazz who would he trust?

More importantly, he wanted Jazz to trust him.

"Jazz stays." Derek announced. "Now quit pissing about and get on with it."

If Rich was offended by the blunt answer to his question he never showed it. Nor did he show any degree of surprise. Instead, he drew back from the screen and rested his body once again on the back of the chair. His posture relaxed as if he knew he had their full attention.

"About a year ago, Papillion took a business trip to Toronto to meet up with a past acquaintance. He was full of the trip because he hoped it would open up new trade routes for him. The guy concerned was into some high profit dealings - running across to Detroit- and Papillion was keen to tap into some of his action."

Derek's face was impassive as Rich paused.

"Anyway, he took me with him. We stayed a while in some swanky hotel holding meeting after drunken meeting with this guy, Sal – who I will tell you now is a crazy mother…"

"Go on." Derek interrupted.

"Cut a very long story short, the meetings didn't go well. Papillion wasn't of the right "calibre" to join with Sal's operation. Sal runs a tight ship and Papillion was basically too stupid to add anything to the mix. Even I could see that. We came home and Papillion muttered about growing his own empire so big that he could swallow Sal's whole." Rich shook his head in disbelief. "…like he had a chance in hell!"

He spotted the shift in Derek's body language and realised he wasn't cutting the story short enough.

"The meetings, and their lack of outcome have very little to do with why I called you here though."  
Derek sighed. "Less of the dramatics, _Dick_! Just cut to the chase."

"During one of the drunken meetings, Sal told Papillion the story of how he trusted no fucker, and held all his high-level negotiations himself. He told us a story about how one of his operators nearly landed him in jail seven years ago through not being cautious enough."

Derek sat up straighter. It was three words that caught his attention. _Seven years ago._ He glanced at Jazz who looked confused.

"Seven years ago." Derek repeated.

Rich nodded. "He told a tale of a deal being overheard by some hot shot future hockey player who went to the cops."

Derek's breath caught.

"And?"

"And how they silenced the kid with a hit."

Rich watched the effect his words were having on Derek. The younger guy couldn't look at him anymore. He was staring at the wall as if lost and Rich knew he was reliving memories.

"For many years," The former mountie went on, "Sal thought that was the end of the risk from that quarter. Sure, the other parties involved and the cops knew about the attempted transaction but no one had enough evidence to take it to trial. He thought he had neutralised the problem. Then about eighteen months ago, out of the blue, one of his foot soldiers who had been around at the time of the hit called him, freaking out. He said he'd travelling to Europe on vacation and as the trip involved a lay over in New York he had landed at JFK."

Rich paused and the sudden silence broke into Derek's thoughts. He turned his head to face Rich who started talking again.

"He swore he saw a dead man walking."

Jazz frowned. "Did he?" He asked, as Derek turned away again, remembering the occasion of his visit to New York eighteen months ago. He hadn't been travelling as Derek Venturi or even as Mikey Essen. He had had another identity entirely – although for once, due to time pressures he had made no attempt to disguise his appearance. Clearly, that had been a mistake.

Rich's eyes were fixed on Derek.

"I'd say…" He began. "Given the details he told me that night…yeah, dead men can walk."

Derek came back to the land of the living. "What else did he tell you?"  
"Not much. Just the dead guy's name."

"Which was?" Jazz asked, glancing between Rich and Derek.

"Derek Venturi." Rich replied.

Jazz's gaze settled on his partner. "Name mean anything to you?" He asked pointedly.

Derek smiled weakly. "Kind of." He leaned forward. "Anything else?"  
Rich grinned. "Oh yeah! You see, when Sal told Papillion that he wouldn't give him an "in" on the high profit game, he qualified it. He told him the only way he would ever let Papillion in was if he found out the current whereabouts of Derek Venturi."

"This was a year ago?" Derek asked cutting across Jazz's attempt to understand what he was hearing.

"Yes."

"But, there was no photo or anything." Derek asked.

"No." Rich said.

"So how…?"

"Do _I_ know the current whereabouts of Derek Venturi?" Rich asked. Derek nodded.

"Because that night in the cistern when we were transferring you and that pair of legs you were with into the pit, "legs" kept muttering."

"_Casey_ was drugged."

Rich shrugged. "She still muttered. Kept moaning "Der-ek!" in her drowsy state. That and some crap about love and hate being two sides of the same coin.

When we got back to his office, it clicked where Papillion had heard the name before. He got Casey's full name from her driving licence and when he googled her – low and behold what do we find? Casey McDonald is the sister of none other than Derek Venturi."

Jazz's eyes widened. "Sister? But…"

Clearly he had moved on from confusion over Derek's identity. Now he appeared to be having a problem with the status of Derek's relationship with Casey.

Derek ignored him. He'd explain the four letters bit later.

"Okay. You know about Derek Venturi." Derek stated still reluctant to confirm what they all now knew – that Derek was in fact _him_. "What else?"

Rich folded his arms across his chest, leaned back and delivered the coup de grace.

"After you arrested me and Papillion made his escape I know for a fact he contacted Sal."

Derek's jaw dropped as Rich went on.

"Four months ago Sal knew that you were still alive AND your new identity."


	6. Disclosure

He had been watching the closed door for what seemed like forever, but when it was wrenched open the Governor of the prison still jumped.

He was sitting there with the displaced guards…waiting.

Normal "Interrogation" procedure was that when the interviews were terminated, the visiting police/investigator would press a small button under the counter, signalling that it was time for the guards to re-enter the room. Instead, the first the waiting staff outside knew of the cessation of the interview between Mikey and Rich was when the door to the room swung open so forcibly it crashed into the wall.

The Governor looked up his face clearly showing his surprise – which turned to outright shock at the sight of Mikey Essen's face. Mikey/Derek wasn't known for his temper. He spent more time looking for ways to twist situations to his advantage rather than bothering with the effort of getting angry about them. His serious temper bursts were rare, although not unheard of.

That he was angry now was clear.

Derek glanced behind him into the interview room and then turned forwards again, stepping across the threshold and towards the Governor.

"Get him whatever privilege he demands." He barked jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards where Rich was and then, as if considering something, "Assign a guard to him, _personally_; only people you would trust with your grandmother. Get it?"

The Governor, though normally someone with a backbone, nodded weakly and Derek walked past him without any acknowledgement as he made his way to the guard station where he could sign out.

Hobbling with his cast and solitary crutch, Jazz followed. He looked pale and somewhat shell-shocked but he didn't enlighten the authority figure in front of him, with either the subject of Rich's statements – or the specific part which had made Mikey look suddenly angry...ill even.

In fact, it wasn't until Derek and Jazz were once again outside of the prison and walking to the parking lot that either of them spoke. This time it was Jazz, and he spoke only as he answered his ringing cell. Derek ignored him.

"Yeah. We're just leaving the prison now." Jazz told the unidentified caller. "How was it? Hmmm...Interesting."

Derek snorted to himself as he deduced who was on the other end of the phone and what they were talking about.

"Yes. I agree. I don't like being in the dark either. Give us forty minutes." Jazz went on and the anger in _his_ voice became evident. "I know it's only a twenty minute drive. My _partner_ and I have stuff to discuss first."

Derek swung round. "Tell him we'll be there in twenty." He said quietly but forcefully. "I'm only discussing this once."

"There" turned out to be the rooftop level of a high-level parking garage.

Derek knew it already.

It was disused, difficult to access and somewhere that he had used to meet Spike before. It was also not overlooked and was located in a fairly remote part of town; useful for when the "discussion" you were going to have was likely to be a loud one. Derek was convinced this would be the case right now.

Spike was already there when they arrived. He was standing near the edge of the level peering down at the depths below, looking almost gangster-like in a thick camel coat, a dark brown silk scarf hanging loosely round his neck.

"You look like Don _fucking _Corleone." Derek greeted his boss which made the guy turn around sharply. There was no humour in Derek's voice.

Spike shrugged. "Christmas presents from the missus." He said matter-of-factly. "She thinks they make me look _distinguished_."

"They say love is blind." Derek retorted.

Spike sighed. "Don't fucking _start_. I was having a good day until you decided to come into work on your day off."

Derek snorted. "So was I until I realised someone wasn't being honest with me." His eyes bore into Spike. Rich's revelations had opened Derek's eyes in many ways.

"That's a fucking joke." Jazz spat out from beside his friend. "Pot meet kettle."

Jazz was biding his time, holding his temper in. He didn't like being lied to and it was clear from the conversation with Rich that Mikey or someone was lying to him. He had a burning suspicion it _was_ Mikey and Jazz had every intention of making sure Spike knew it. There was no room in their department for secrets any more.

Spike glanced at Jazz when he recognised the angry tone in the guy's voice. Then he glanced at Derek and raised an eyebrow.

"I let Jazz sit in on the conversation with Rich." Derek explained.

"Oh?" Spike hoped he didn't know the reason behind the tension between them all...except he was fairly sure he did.

Derek ignored him. "Why do I get the feeling you've been holding out on me…_sir_?"

Spike looked taken aback. "Meaning?"  
"Where's Papillion?" Derek asked firmly whilst not explaining the reasoning behind his question.

His boss shrugged. He wasn't explaining either even though he was now certain that he knew at least something about Rich's revelations.

"Spike. Don't fuck with me. I have every belief that we are going to get word any minute that fucker Rich wants to go into protective custody."

Spike despite his own suspicions was confused. "Why?"

Derek sighed. "Rich said some stuff back at the prison which should make him a dead man if Papillion was still around. He gave me information that he'd kept back as a Get-out-of-Jail but he didn't use it sooner…why? Conclusion? Despite his blasé attitude the guy is scared. He thinks that by telling us he knows stuff we will protect him." He looked at Spike. "He's never shown any sign of being scared for _himself_ before, but he's always avoided doing anything which would put his daughter in danger. What's changed? Has Papillion stepped over the mark? Is his daughter not a consideration any more? The stakes have been upped Spike and I want to know why. I think you know."

Spike looked uncomfortable. "It's not Holly and it's not Papillion." he stated and Derek gave him his full attention as he sensed he was finally getting somewhere.

"How can you be sure?" Derek asked.

Spike sighed knowing that his next words would not be well received.

"Because they are both dead."

"What?" Derek was astounded. This was the first he had heard. "When?"  
"About two weeks after we arrested Rich we found their bodies..." Spike held a hand up, anticipating Derek's next question. "...confirmed by DNA." Spike went on. "Rich knows. He was allowed to attend Holly's funeral."

Spike looked at Jazz. The latter man knew he should feel guilty that he too knew this and hadn't told Derek, but he didn't feel guilty because "Mikey" had been withholding information from him too.

"You knew that Papillion was dead and you never _told_ me?" Derek was livid. "I've been worrying about the bastard coming after me...coming after Casey. You''re telling that it was all for nothing?"

Spike shook his head vigorously. "No! It was for something." He admitted. "We think...we have strong suspicions that Holly and Papillion were killed..." He stared pointedly at Derek. "...murdered by someone connected to the Sanchez murder."

Derek felt his stomach fall away. The murder of Tina Sanchez, third year Sports Science major at Kingston pre-dated his own "death" but it was still his first "case". When they realised there was a link between the steroid scandal amongst the hockey team and the death of the former cheerleader-cum-track star, Derek had been assigned to the case. The trouble was he had picked up the paperwork a year after the murder. The trail was too cold to follow.

"You're telling me that you've known for months that Papillion and Holly were killed by Sal and you didn't tell me?" Derek's voice was ominously quiet. Spike sighed.

"I knew there were similarities between their deaths and that of Tina Sanchez. We never officially linked her death to the Venturi case. We never got a name for her killer."

Derek screwed up his face in disgust. "That's just semantics, _boss_. We knew there were links we just hadn't found them."

"You were on leave when Papillion's body was found and we knew nothing at the time about Sal being involved...not until the similarities in the scarves used to strangle them came up. Even then there was nothing to indicate that Sal knew of your involvement with Papillion. It just seemed like a coincidence. There was no reason to tell you...to worry you."

Derek snorted. "No reason huh? Yeah well you might want to reassess that little conclusion."

"Oh...why?" Spike asked tilting his head slightly to look at Derek but it was Jazz that answered causing Spike to swing his head round to regard him.

"Rich says that Papillion was killed by Sal because he gave him the information he desperately needed and he wanted to cover his tracks."

"What information?" Spike asked his heart sinking as he guessed for himself.

Jazz shrugged and fixed "Mikey" with a strong look of his own.

"The whereabouts of Derek Venturi."

Spike swore. Derek straightened. "Yeah...shit! Now do you see where your secrecy has got us?"

Jazz folded his arms. "You're hardly one to cast accusations about secrecy and withholding information. Who is Derek Venturi? And what is he to this department?"

Spike turned away prepared to leave Derek to answer the questions but Derek was having none of it.

"Yeah Spike...What is Derek Venturi to this department?" Derek said. Spike went to answer the question but Derek shook his head and held up a hand.

"I'll tell you what...you fill Jazz in...I have other places to be." He turned on his tail and started walking towards the exit. He would take his car, the fuckers could call a cab or something.

He hadn't walked more than six steps when Spike called after him.

"Derek!"

Derek paused and turned around, ignoring the disgusted look on Jazz's face.

"Where are you going?" Spike asked sounding uncertain.

Derek shrugged with more nonchalance than he felt.

"You've put my whole family at risk. Especially Casey." He said. "I don't have time to sit and rehash old bedtime stories with a guy who doesn't trust me and another who I'm not so sure I trust any more. You two get your stories straight and I'll see you when you can do something useful for me."

And with that, he walked away.

Jazz raised an eyebrow as Spike, concern written all over his face eventually lost sight of Derek's back and gave his attention to his remaining subordinate.

"I guess you've got some talking to do." Jazz said.

Spike nodded. "This damn roof top is freezing. Let's go find a hot drink and something dripping in butter and syrup. I need comfort food and screw my wife's healthy eating plan."

It took them a while to get to a diner because they had to find a cab, but eventually they were settled in a corner booth where they could see the rest of the clientèle and were far enough away from strange ears to make sure the story would remain between them. They ordered and waited for the food before beginning.

Spike sipped his coffee and then got started, sensing that his junior was going to get vocal if he didn't get on with it.

"I've only been in this department for seven years." Spike began. "Before this I was based in Toronto doing stuff that was a bit more mainstream; a bit more police work and a bit less 007– James Bond I am not...nor did I ever want to be. I worked in the Organised Crime section, headed it up actually, and I flatter myself that I was moderately successful at it: I brought down several big shot gang leaders – people who would have given some of the old British gangsters a run for their money, lock stock and nine smoking barrels." he paused and Jazz thought maybe he was expected to laugh, but he couldn't. Spike moved on.

"There was one guy that I couldn't rein in though, one guy we tried for years to put away but there was never anything concrete enough to stand up in court. We cleared case after case, filled prisons full of guys who looked like small fry in comparison to Sal, but though we could nearly always identify the scams, jobs and deaths that he had a hand in, we could never build a case to take him down – a fact that amuses the hell out of him to this day. Nothing stuck and we gave him the nickname "Teflon Sal".

Just over seven years ago, I get a call from one of my former army buddies who was working for the RCMP in London to say that he'd been contacted by a college kid with a really far-fetched story but that the guy was so obviously shit-scared he didn't know what else to do but to pass the case to me."

Spike stuck a mouthful of pancake into his mouth, washed it down with coffee and contemplated Jazz over his coffee mug.

"That was when I met Derek Venturi." he took a deep breath. "Derek back then was a different sort of guy to the Derek we work with. I didn't get time to look into his background before I saw him which was probably a good thing for Derek because otherwise I might not have given him the time of day. Although maybe a "good thing" is a relative term." Spike's voice trailed away as he realised that if he hadn't seen Derek, he wouldn't have been persuaded to get involved in the case against one of the most dangerous men in Canada. He would still have his old life and who knew where he would be right now.

Spike coughed bringing himself back to the subject at hand. "Derek was a Sports major at Queens University. He was their resident ice hockey star – truly amazing on the ice." He smirked. "He knew it too."

Spike went on, telling Jazz about Derek and how they first met. He told him about the decision to use Derek as a source...and the subsequent decision to try for a conviction with its disastrous consequences. Relating the circumstances of Derek's "death" was not easy for Spike. He still felt immensely guilty about what that decision had done to Derek's future – even though he had carved a new one out for himself, and just lately seemed to be happy again.

A full hour after the tale had started, Jazz was in possession of all the facts – yet he still had two questions.

"Why didn't you trust me?" he asked. "I've never given you a reason not to trust me."

Spike nodded. "I know. But you have to understand that by the time you came on the scene, we were so used to _not_ telling anyone it was easier to stick to that policy. The fewer people who knew his real name, the better. It's really hard to keep calling him Mikey knowing that it isn't his real name."

"And Casey?" Jazz asked. He was still reeling from the revelation that the girl he thought had bowled his friend over was in fact the guy's _sister_. Had Jazz really mis-read the signs so badly.

"She's his _step_ sister." Spike explained. "On the face of it the relationship is complicated. In reality, it's actually really straight-forward."

"He wants her."

"It's a bit more than that...and I'd say it was mutual."

"Is she a security risk?"Jazz asked.

"Is she a security risk?" Spike echoed. "No more than any of us. In fact in some ways less so. Casey feels the need to stick her nose into Derek's business yes, but she is also fiercely loyal. They are incredibly protective of their family – but more so of each other. You heard the debrief on the Papillion case. They are quite a team when they need to be."

Jazz nodded. "So what now?"

Spike finished up the last of his pancakes and sat back.

"Now, I want to know absolutely everything about your visit to Rich."

Derek pulled up outside his apartment block and quickly made his way into the building. He barely nodded at the security guard in the foyer, instead choosing to sprint for the stairs rather than wait for the elevator.

He let himself into the apartment quickly and closed the door behind him.

It was strange coming home when Casey wasn't there. Her absence wasn't unusual because they often worked different shifts but there was something about the atmosphere right now as if the living space was bigger, less homely and colder than normal. Her coat wasn't hanging by the door, and her shoes were missing from the rack; a rack that just a few short months ago hadn't even been there.

Derek walked into their bedroom, retrieved his small "carry-on" case from his closet and placed it on the bed. With a practised ease he began to fill the bag with items for a short stay away from home: underwear, sleepwear, day-wear and the necessary toiletries.

Going away at short notice wasn't unusual for him. The urgency and the fear behind the trip were.

The most important items packed were the ones he placed in the side pocket of his suitcase: his documentation to travel. It consisted of identification documents in his alter ego of Michael Essen and the licence to carry side-arms which applied even on board an aircraft. There were few people in Canada who had the rites of passage owned by Derek and his team.

Before Derek left the apartment he considered phoning Casey, but decided against it. What good would it do? It would make her behave differently and if he knew her, the differences would put her in more danger rather than less. Despite the irritation he felt over Spike's secrecy, he knew his boss and he knew that by now there were probably at least two protection details outside of Casey's London apartment. Telling Casey that his cover was blown would make her jump on the next flight to Ottawa to "protect" him. He chuckled and although he felt little humour in the idea of Casey protecting him, he did acknowledge that the idea of her caring about him was a nice one.

He zipped the bag up, checked the chambers of his gun and then when he was satisfied that he was prepared, Derek Venturi left the building.


	7. The Visit

"Da-Da-da-" Amelia chatted. Casey turned in surprise and Ruth laughed.

"Oh yeah! She's speaking her own little language now."

"Really?" Casey said with a laugh and then her face fell. "I'm missing so much."

Ruth put a hand on Casey's shoulder. "Yes. But you look so much better than you did. Ottawa agrees with you...or at least, Mikey does." She stood up and went to collect their coffees from the kitchen.

"Someone sure knows how to drool a lot." Casey announced with a smile at the little girl in front of her.

"She takes after her father!" Ruth shouted back from the other room. Casey laughed and reached up to the coffee table for a paper tissue to wipe the dribble from her god-daughter's mouth.

"Are those new teeth troubling you?" Casey asked.

"They're definitely troubling _me_." Ruth told her, coming into the living room. "Breast -feeding is getting to be a little painful right now. In fact," she said with a sigh. "I'm thinking of stopping."

Casey sat up and looked across at her friend who was now perched on the couch. She sensed that Ruth was troubled and Casey had noted her friend looked pale and drawn.

"She is nearly nine months." Casey said. "How do you feel about stopping?"

"A little sad." Ruth admitted. "But also..." She straightened. "I love my daughter. She's my world and I want the best for her, but..."

"...but you have other commitments too and satisfying everything is draining you?." Casey finished. "You need to find a balance in everything. If breast-feeding is starting to impact other important things..."

"That's exactly it!" Ruth announced. "It's wearing me down to the point where I'm so exhausted I can't function. She's just so active and I'm not."

"Only you can make the decision, Ruth."

"I know...I just...How can it be right that doing the right thing by my daughter means making me ill?

"Have you spoken to your feeding co-ordinator?"

Ruth sighed. "She says the same as you. Only I can make the decision. But how do I make a decision like that? Some people breastfeed for years."

Casey smiled. "And some people never breastfeed at all. You're doing a great job, Ruth. She's thriving but only a small part of that is down to the milk. Most of it is the time and effort you put into her care. If you are too tired to function..."

Ruth nodded. "I'll think about it."

Casey rolled her little charge a ball. "When was your last check up with your doctor?" She asked as if distracted. Ruth shrugged.

"Not for a few months, why?"

"Maybe you need some supplements. Why don't you go and see your doctor? Get yourself checked out."

Ruth nodded and then smiled. "Thanks Casey. I've missed you and your advice so much."

"Ottawa isn't cut off you know. You can still phone me."

"But I don't want to intrude...you know...into your life there."

Casey laughed. "What exactly do you think you are going to interrupt?"

"We'll you're not _single_ any more and..."

"Oh for heavens-sake. Don't you start."

"What?"

"I'm not dating Mikey. We just..."  
"Live together?"

"Exactly. We're not sl...having sex. He's just a very good friend." Her face pulled into a frown. Why was it so hard to define the relationship she had with Derek? She chuckled inwardly. It had always been hard to define the relationship she had with Derek. Even when they didn't _have_ a relationship...not that they had one now or...

_Oh hell!_

"It's just well...what if I ring during a moment...the moment?" Ruth tried to explain.

"Moment?" Casey looked confused.

"You know. When he's confessing undying love to you or something?"

Casey's eyes widened and then she laughed a deep-rooted belly laugh. "Oh that's the funniest thing I've heard in a long time." She said when she had caught her breath. She noted Ruth's own puzzled look and patted her friend on the back of her hand.

"I think I can safely say that the chances of that happening are very, very remote. Derek and I may care about each other but Derek confessing undying love...he he!"

"Derek?" Ruth asked, now _really_ confused. Casey froze.

"I meant Mikey." She said. "Mikey."

Ruth looked sadly at her friend. Clearly there was some way to go before Casey was her normal self, however much it might appear otherwise.

Casey said nothing further. In the quiet that followed the door to the living room opened and Sam came in.

"Casey!" he cried as soon as he spotted her. Casey quickly stood up and went to hug him.

"Hi Sam!"

"I didn't know you were coming home!"

Casey shrugged. "Last minute time off. I didn't get chance to call ahead. You're looking..." She frowned. "Sam? Have you put on weight?"

Ruth sniggered. "I told you she'd notice."

Sam pouted and Casey grimaced. "Sorry Sam, that was rude of me."

He chuckled. "Nah. It was just the truth. I keep telling myself it's contentment but I guess if it's that noticeable I need to start doing a bit more exercise."

Casey smiled. "Amelia will be on her feet soon and that will be exercise enough. You always were a little on the thin side at school."

They all chuckled as they sat down.

"So how's Ottawa?" asked Sam, although they all interpreted it as _is that Mikey character still on the scene?_

"Ottawa's fine. Great." Casey replied."The apartment is starting to look like a home now that I've added some furniture." Which meant, _yes he's still around. We live together actually._

"I've always fancied visiting the big city." _Maybe I should come check the guy out. _Sam was ignoring the stink-eye his wife was giving him.

"Toronto's a city too, Sam. You go there regularly." Casey pointed out. _I know what you are up to, wiseguy._

"Yeah, but it would be nice to see you in your new home. And soon." _I wonder if I can use my frequent flyer points to pay for the flight?_

Casey rolled her eyes. "It would be nice to have you both to visit although I have to warn you, there are only two bedrooms and there isn't a room for a crib in my room or the spare room."

"I'm sure we can sort something out. My sister might have Amelia for us." _Two rooms and one is spare? They sleep together? Mentally booking that flight _right now!

Ruth watched the ping-pong between Casey and Casey's ex-boyfriend with amusement.

"_IF_ we come to see you in Ottawa," Ruth said, pointed looking at her husband. "there will be no need to put us up. We'll stay in a hotel – and we'll give you [_and Mikey_] plenty of notice. Won't we, _Darling?_"

Sam scowled. Ruth knew how he felt about Casey's internet boyfriend. The trouble was from Sam's point of view, he still didn't understand why none of her family had met him. Wasn't George itching to see who his step-daughter was shacked up with? Hadn't he hopped on the first flight to the city to see for himself the guy who had swept her off her feet. After all, Casey did have an appalling track record of dating loser guys – with one obvious exception..._himself_. Although frankly he wasn't too happy with his own behaviour on occasion back then.

Some how he couldn't see Derek taking this whole Mikey-business so casually – and therein was his motivation; with Derek's death, Sam had taken over the role of protector for Casey McDonald.

It wasn't that Derek had ever admitted to seeing himself in that role, but Sam knew his best friend and he had known that Derek had devoted a lot of energy to ensuring the only messes Casey wound up in were ones of his own making...and therefore ones which he could guarantee she would emerge from _relatively_ unscathed. _Relative_ being the operative word...although of course as he had reminded Derek once, Casey and Derek weren't actually related. He still remembered Derek's reaction on that one occasion where Sam brought up the subject of step-sibling relationships – and their legitimate status in the world. Sam had chosen the wrong location for the discussion – the school lunch hall.

"_Sam. For the love of fucking MIKE, shut the fuck up before someone hears you!" Derek had hissed._

"_I'm just saying..."_

"_Yeah. Why don't cha just shout that a bit louder so that dude at the back with the purple hair and the bad taste in rock bands can hear you?"_

And of course, the situation was compounded when Ralph added his opinion.

"_Casey's hot, dude. You should totally..."_

_Derek glared at him, Ralph closed his mouth and Sam felt like he ought to intervene._

"_It was just something that I read somewhere that I thought you might not be aware of."_

_Derek snorted. "Of course I'm aware of it! I've been aware of it since day one."_

"_You mean you read it somewhere?"_

"_No I mean Dad gave me a fucking lecture before he married Nora about respecting my "sisters". He said the word "sister" so often and got so nervous when I corrected him about the "step" bit that I started wondering why the four letters made such a difference."_

"_And you found out?"_

_Derek had looked down at his food then. "Yeah. I found out. I also found out that for once my Dad was right. The four little extra letters really made no difference whatsoever." His voice was quiet before he recovered and Sam wondered what else Derek had found during his research. Or what George had said to him._

"_Of course it's still fun to mess with the old guy now and then. I swear he has kittens every time he sees me coming out of Casey's room." He grinned at Sam._

_Then the smile faded. "But just because you and I know the real legalities of the situation does not mean that I want you blabbing them around the school. You know what this place is like! People work out that I _could_ date _her_ and then they'll start to think that I _am_. They'll make up stories about me meeting her in boiler rooms, rubbing her up against the lockers, screwing in her bedroom late at night or worse – screwing in the front seat of the Prince."_

"_Let alone what Casey would say..."_

_Derek laughed. "Oh she knows."_

"_Oh?"_

"_She watched an episode of one of her lame medical TV programmes about childbirth and she was horrified when the loving parents of the newborn baby were actually step-siblings. Man! You should have seen her face!" _

_But Sam remembered that Derek's face hadn't looked as cheerful about Casey's epiphany as he made out. He had always wondered about that._

By the time Casey left Sam and Ruth's home, she was fully aware that Sam still harboured massive doubts about Mikey. She drove back to the apartment she nominally shared with Marti, smiling to herself. Sam might feel differently if he knew who "Mikey" really was...or then again...

Maybe not!

She should have known the evening was going to turn into a farce the moment she spilt the red pesto down her cream dress. Casey swore colourfully at the stain, much to Marti's amusement.

"I can see my brother is influencing you in many ways." Derek's only sister said with a chuckle. "I spotted a couple of his favourite curses in there."

Casey rolled her eyes. "Please Marti, we have to stop talking about Derek tonight. If you mention him in front of the family it could be disastrous."

"Relax. I won't mention him or at least other than the pointed grilling about "Mikey" that I'm going to give you in front of Nora."

"No!" wailed Casey. "Please! I've already got the two names mixed up this afternoon when I saw Ruth, I can't make any mistakes tonight. The trouble with the Venturis is you are all as sharp as a knife when it comes to picking up on secrets. I don't know how I ever thought I could keep Mikey a secret from you."

"Neither do I. But then I also don't understand how you managed to go so long before you realised that he was really Derek – and even then it took you seeing him face to face."

"I know. I guess I was so used to pushing the vague hope that he was still alive away from me that I missed the signs that it was really true." She couldn't hide the small smile of relief which crept onto her lips. Casey wasn't particularly religious but she sent a small prayer of thanks to whatever power existed that the unthinkable had happened and he was alive again...for now.

Talking about Derek with Marti was easy and difficult at the same time. It was nice to have someone "in the know".

They were currently in the kitchen and Casey was preparing the ingredients for cooking because the rest of the Venturis were coming for dinner. In an effort to pacify her mother and George, who weren't happy that it was only a flying visit, she had invited them to spend the evening; and with the promise of decent home-cooking the other remaining members of the clan were coming too. It was going to be Red Pesto Chicken – a new recipe that Casey had discovered whilst in Ottawa – and which had now been adopted by Derek as his "favourite non-cow" dish. She smiled as she thought about the last time she had cooked this. Derek had picked at the cooked chicken pieces while she was preparing it so much she had been forced to keep the rolling pin handy to discourage errant hands. The tactic had worked and she though he had given up, until he slipped an arm around her waist, leaned his chin on her shoulder and whispered flattering comments about her cooking into her ear. His voice had been deep and soft, and incredibly distracting...

...which was clearly the point because when he had teased her for several minutes she looked down to see that half a cooked chicken breast was missing from the chopping board and she hadn't seen him eat a mouthful!

It had been less than 48 hours since she had last seen Derek but it felt like forever.

"Penny for them..." Marti asked, leaning against the worktop. She had a slight upward curve to her mouth that Casey was trying to convince herself wasn't a knowing smile.

"I was just thinking about the last time I cooked this meal." Casey commented.

Marti reached across and picked up a chip from the selection of chips and dips Casey had already prepared. She crunched it before speaking.

"Let me guess, you cooked enough for four and only ate a quarter of it, and my brother ate the rest."

Her step-sister chuckled. "Something like that." she admitted.

"I miss him too, Casey." Marti said a moment later.

"I know."

"What if something happens and I don't get to see him again."

Casey sighed. "It's not his choice, Marti."

The younger girl nodded in understanding and changed the subject. "You should change that dress it's covered in sauce."

"Yeah. Could you finish chopping this chicken for me? And don't eat it all. I haven't got time to go out and buy more."

"What do you think I am? A Venturi?"

"Exactly!" Casey laughed back.

She returned to her room to change her clothes shivering slightly as she entered. The room had many unhappy memories for her; most of them involved her crying over something she couldn't change, someone she couldn't have. But part of the problem was the recurring nightmare she had been having over the months since Derek's reappearance in her life, since her move to Ottawa. It was the nightmare where she kept feeling as though she was living a dream and that the reality was the cold bedroom in which she was currently standing. To try and break the eerie sensation she concentrated on the details of the room she could see in front of her. Dreams were all about generalities. If she concentrated on the specifics then she could convince herself that it was still real.

As per the conversation she had with Derek when she first arrived back in London, the plan was to take as many of her things back to Ottawa with her as she could, so stacked in the corner were a handful of boxes she had filled and sealed. Some were labelled "Mom's" and some were labelled "Home". All that remained was the bed, the furniture and Casey's empty suitcase; her few unpacked clothes were hanging in her closet. She opened the door and took out a red thai silk dress she had brought from Ottawa. It wasn't the same as the one she had ripped that night in the club - that had been thrown away by the hospital while she was recovering. It was however, an identical dress. Derek had bought it for her while she was still recuperating at home. Then he had taken her out to dinner to give her somewhere "normal" to wear it.

She dressed quickly and sighed at the ruin of the cream dress.

As she turned to leave the room, Casey felt a new sense of unease, as though she was being watched. She glanced towards the window where the drapes were drawn back but the night outside was empty. She heard the doorbell go and shaking herself, pulled away from the unease and moved out into the living room.

"Hi Dad! Hi Nora!" Marti opened the front door for her parents and then pretended to shut the remaining McDonald-Venturis out.

"Oh...you _all_ came!" Her voice didn't sound very enthusiastic.

"Be nice Marti!" Casey warned from beside the couch. Marti laughed.

"Spoilsport!"

"It's okay," Lizzie said with a grin at Marti. "I'll get my own back. Next time it's my turn to cook we'll be trying out some of my all time favourite Quorn recipes. We all know how much Marti loves Quorn."

"You try and feed me that rubbery grey stuff and I'll feed it to your cat."

"I don't have a cat."

"Get one."

Edwin and Robbie laughed, stepped over the door threshold and made immediately for the large plates of chips and dips. Like a plague of locusts, they hovered for a moment near the coffee table with the snacks on them and then when they stepped away – there was nothing left except a tiny piece of toasted pitta that had been missed and the dregs of the four difference dips. On the side lines, the three young women watched the two guys eat all the snacks and turned to each other in disbelief.

"That's just..." Lizzie complained.

Nora smiled indulgently. "They are growing men, sweetie." She glanced at Casey who was normally the first to react to that sort of behaviour.

"It's okay, Liz. I've got more in the kitchen. It was predictable behaviour. I'm used to it."

"Is Mikey the same then?" Nora asked. Marti coughed and scratched her neck in a way that made Casey think of Derek...again.

"Oh yes. You wouldn't believe the amount of humus we get through in a sitting."

Nora laughed. "You want to bet? I did cater for Derek during his teenage years!"

Casey said nothing, because Nora couldn't be more right if she tried.

"You're looking stunning, Casey." George said, pressing a kiss against his step-daughter's cheek.. She blushed and muttered her thanks. George turned his attention to Marti. "You're looking...colourful." He said with a stutter in the middle as he struggled to find something complimentary about Marti's latest fashion creation.

"Thanks Dad! That means a lot to me." Marti said without a trace of irony.

They had come bearing wine and post-dinner chocolates which Edwin tried to take charge of, but was pipped at the post by Marti. He scowled at her.

"Don't you think you've pigged out enough on the snacks?" Marti questioned taking the gifts into the kitchen.

The family sat down on the sofa and the floor and everyone began talking at once. Casey smiled. It was the noise she missed most about this part of her life. Life with Derek wasn't exactly quiet, they still argued so much it could never be considered as tranquil, but the noise when the family got together definitely trumped it. And they hadn't seen her for a long time. She answered as many questions as she could and was surprised that none of them related to Mikey and her domestic situation. In fact, it wasn't until she got up to go and start cooking the dinner that Nora followed her and the gentle interrogation by a mother began.

"You look happy." Nora said, watching as Casey filled a large pan with water.

Casey smiled. "I am happy." She replied.

"Good. Because the moment George thinks Mikey isn't treating you well he's going to be on the first plane to Ottawa."

Casey laughed. "I think the moment we have a big argument I'd better block book some seats because Ruth said much the same thing to me about Sam." She placed two large frying pans on the hob. Nora smiled.

"This move..." She asked tentatively, knowing that Casey could very well resent the intrusion. "...is it permanent? Only I notice more of your things are missing from the living room here and..."  
"Mom, I don't know, okay? I just know that I need a break from here, from London and Toronto. It hasn't been good for me since Derek's death."

"I know and I think you are right. I just...Casey it's all happened so fast. And roommate or not, you hardly know the guy."  
Nora was fishing and Casey knew it. She had given her parents the sanitised version of the Mikey and Casey story but she knew they wouldn't be satisfied since they had never even seen a picture of him. Nora would like to see a picture so that she could get some sort of feel for what Mikey was like. Early on in this drama, Marti had suggested to Casey that she find someone else and take a picture of them instead, but Casey couldn't do it, because that would be lying to her mom. Whilst she had been economical with the truth, or phrased things very very carefully, she had never out-right lied to her mom about Mikey: he was a friend of Derek's, they had "met" at that party – although they had known the other one was going at the time- and he was a cop who like Casey worked incredibly long hours. Casey knew her mother however, and where as some parents might accept a lack of critical information, and the knowledge that their child lived hundreds of miles away with someone they've never met, she knew Nora wouldn't. She was working her way up to it, but Casey knew that the crunch moment would come at some point – and she loved her mother for it, even while she panicked about how to handle it.

"I should warn you," Nora said. "George is talking about a family trip to Ottawa in the Summer."

"Oh." Casey stopped stirring the food in the pans.

"Will that cause you a problem?" Nora asked. Casey glanced at her mother to see how she was asking. If she had her "hard" look on, Casey would know that she had had a hand in the suggestion.

But Nora's look was soft, as though she understood how that would make things awkward. Casey said nothing so Nora went on.

"I've told him I'm not comfortable with the idea. I want to be _invited_ to Ottawa, not force it on you."

"Mom..." Casey started, but Nora put up her hands.

"We have several months yet, four maybe five. Why don't you think about it? Talk to Mikey. See what he says."

Casey nodded. "I'll try Mom." She said. Her words made Nora frown.

"Is it that he doesn't want to _see_ us?" She asked. "You can be honest with me. I wouldn't blame the guy he wouldn't be the first."

Casey shook her head. "No Mom. He wants to see you more than anything in the world. It's just...complicated. I'll try. I promise."

Nora held her arms out for her daughter and Casey walked into them.

"I'm just so happy to see you living again." She said into Casey's hair.

"He makes me want to live." Casey said.

"You're in love with him?"

Casey sighed. "It's..."

"...complicated." They both said with a smile.

A short while later, Casey was moaning about the pesto stain in her cream dress. Nora told her she knew of a specialist cleaning firm in Toronto and offered to take the dress in.

"I can post it back to you when they are done." Nora said.

Casey smiled. "That would be fantastic! Thanks Mom. I'll go get it now while I remember. Would you watch the dinner for me?"

The rest of the family were playing a heated game of Trivial Pursuit in the living room as she passed through it on her way to her bedroom. They didn't even notice her as she went. She opened the door to her room, slipping inside quickly and shutting the door because she didn't want them to see all the boxes stacked about.

Casey didn't turn the light on until the door was closed and then she got the shock of her life.

She wasn't alone in the room.


	8. The Reunion

There were so many things that Casey could have said as she stood there, but the one she chose was calm, restrained...loving.

"What's wrong?" She asked crossing to the bed and sitting down beside a rather forlorn-looking Derek. He was dressed in his usual long-sleeved t-shirt and expensive jeans but they looked more crumpled than usual. As did he.

He raised an eyebrow. "What? No "What the hell are you doing here?" No "Get out of my bedroom, Derek!"?"Even tired and stressed he still managed to roll out the smallest of smirks, but where as once it annoyed the hell out of her, now it was something she loved about him. In her most soppy moments she liked to think he even had a smirk that was totally hers.

Casey recognised it now and she smiled even as he took her hand. She kissed his fingers and explained.

"I know you. I know it would take a lot to get you here when you've refused before. I might have thought it was good news but," she lifted their joined hands to point at him. "...you look like shit."

He nudged her with his shoulder affectionately. "You sound like me."

"You're a bad influence." They smiled at each other, mouths and eyes, before her expression became serious. "Tell me, Derek. You're killing me here."

He tilted his head to one side, took a deep breath and then slipped his arm around her shoulders.

"They found me." he said softly. "They know I'm not dead."

"Oh fuck!" Casey exclaimed as he confirmed what she had sort of expected but also feared. If it wasn't so serious he would have teased her about the curse.

"Yeah...my thoughts too." Derek settled on.

"You seem remarkably calm." She commented, unconsciously moving closer and sliding her own arm around Derek's waist so that they were wrapped up in each other – seeking a reassurance that neither of them really felt.

"Apparently Sal's known for a long time – months even. They know who I am, where I am, but despite the fact I know they still intend to kill me, they haven't made a move..."

"...yet." Casey finished.

"Yet." Derek confirmed.

She was thoughtful.

"So why are you here? In London, I mean." She wanted him to say he needed her, but she knew it was a pipe dream.  
He shrugged. "I panicked. I saw red and all I could think of was making y...the family safe." He looked away. "I've fucked up all sorts of ways though. I've probably drawn them to you. I'm a fucking idiot. I know better!"

"Does Spike know? About Sal?"

"Yes."

"Then you can bet your life there's a protection detail outside here right now." Casey reasoned, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

"I know, I just..." he looked back at her and his arms tightened.

Casey suddenly knew why he was there and her voice was suddenly accusatory. "You're going to run again, aren't you?" she said, pulling away.  
Derek didn't like the distance. "I don't want to."

Casey shrugged. "Then don't." They were still sitting together, but now there was a distance between their bodies which neither of them liked.  
"Casey." Derek warned. "I don't have much choice."

"You're asking me to kiss you goodbye and let you leave. I can't do that."

She was right. It was exactly what he was asking her to do. He didn't like it but Casey should be with the rest of the family, away from him and safe. They would be given protection; watched twenty-four seven. He would know she wasn't in danger.

She wasn't with him, but that would be bearable to know that she was out of harm's way.

"I just..."

"No. Derek." Casey said firmly and stood up. "I won't let you do it."  
"Not even if it will keep you safe?"  
"_You_ keep me safe. Or my mind at least. The choice you are offering is physical harm or mental harm – I'd rather have the former. I can't go through the last seven years again."

"Casey. It won't be like that." he warned. There would be emails, phone calls. Maybe he'd even allow himself to visit every now and again – if he was really careful. Of course he would be off the scene and the way would be open for slimy creatures like Robin to step in and "entertain" the very single Casey...

Derek stopped liking the idea quite so much. Before he could comment further, Casey put her hand up and her foot down.

"No. Look. I need to go. Mom's waiting for me. I'm in the middle of cooking dinner."

"Red pesto chicken." Derek said with conviction. He recognised the smell. It was comforting and homey. Casey nodded.

"Can you put off the running until I've got rid of the family?" She asked, eyebrow curled. "They're all here you know...the entire clan."

Derek nodded. He'd heard their voices as they arrived because by that stage he had already climbed in through her bedroom window. The security in this apartment was shit and if he seriously thought she was going to be spending any significant time in it her would be having words with Casey about it. Then he remembered that Marti also lived here and resolved to pester Casey about it anyway.

Casey sighed and Derek inwardly made a fairly accurate guess that not all of that was about him leaving – that a decent part of it was the sadness that he couldn't reveal himself to their family. His face reflected his own disquiet and he stood.

"I'm not doing this to hurt you, princess. Or them." He murmured pulling her close and burying his face in her hair.

Casey pulled back only slightly to look at him.

"I know. But you're trying to make decisions for me that only I can make." She explained. "We'll talk about this later." She pressed a quick kiss against his lips. "I need to go and..."

But then Derek was kissing her again.

It wasn't passionate and it didn't rank higher than a seven on the Derek and Casey "past kisses" scale but it was warm and affectionate, and Casey hadn't seen him for two days. She joined in, wishing she had the confidence to make more of this kiss; to turn it from a soft, open-mouth kiss into something deeper, needier...inviting.

Their bodies were close together and they both grasped the other's clothes, although Derek had one hand in her hair now and Casey began to lift her own hand to his face to reciprocate.

Behind them the door opened.

"Casey, Nora wants..._holy shit!_" Marti exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, stopping dead just inside the door. Her eye bugged and the door closed behind her without her noticing.

Surprised in their kiss, Casey and Derek broke apart and there was an awkward silence. Derek was rather grateful Casey shifted to stand in front of him.

Marti coughed to clear some kind of emotion from her throat.

"Casey." She said with a passing impression of calmness when her mind returned. "Nora is looking for you. The sauce is done."

The elder girl also coughed and fidgeted with her dress. "Okay I'm going." She turned to Derek. "_You_...sit and stay. You had better be here when I get back or the only person after you that you'll need to worry about is me."

"I'll be here." He said quietly and when his eyes met hers, a glimmer of the emotion from just a few seconds ago remained. Unseen by Marti, Casey smiled slightly.

She turned back to Marti. "The family can't know he's here, Smarti. Leave him be and we'll talk when the rest of them have gone."

Marti nodded still somewhat stunned at what she had just witnessed.

It wasn't just the sight of Derek back in her life after so long, or the fact that he was supposed to be in Ottawa rather than here, it was the fact that she had just caught him mid-kiss with Casey. Sure it looked chaste by most people's standards but the Derek Marti last knew would have cut off his own lips rather than kiss Casey.

Clearly things had changed - and suspicions Marti had entertained for one _mock_ sibling she now began to believe for the real deal.

* * *

Marti followed Casey out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her, and Casey was really grateful for that. Her little sister could so easily have made a scene, blowing Derek's hiding place. Casey was glad that Marti was ready to give them the benefit of the doubt. She was grateful that Marti hadn't made a scene about the situation she had walked in on.

Or at least, that Marti waited until they were alone in the kitchen, plating up the food before she pounced.

"Wow!" Marti hissed quietly, as soon as Nora took the garlic bread into the living room – together with a rolling pin to stop Venturi hands.

"I know. It's a lovely recipe." Casey commented. "I got it from the chef at my favourite restaurant."

"Screw that Casey. How long have you been dating my brother?"

Casey chuckled. "Dating?"

"Yes...dating."  
"We're just friends, Marti."

Marti snorted. "_Friends_ do not kiss like that. It looks to me as though Derek was telling you something tonight."

Casey removed the hot dishes from the oven.

"That's just normal Derek and me." She said dismissively.

"Normal? You mean you've kissed like that before?"

"Yes. We're just being affectionate. It's the way we are."

"How often?"

Casey shrugged. "Most days."

Marti put down the bowl of salad she was holding.

"And you sleep together?" She knew this from the conversations they had had about furniture.

Her step-sister shook her head. "We share the same bed. It's not...physical between us."

Marti snorted again and picked up the salad bowl. "Looked pretty physical to me." She said and then disappeared into the living room.

When she returned she watched as Casey took a plate out from the cupboard and began to load it up with pasta and sauce.

"I thought people were helping themselves." Marti queried. Casey shook her head.

"This is for Derek." She explained.

"Really?" Marti sniggered.

Casey said nothing more, because the smile on her face as she met Marti's eyes said it all.

* * *

"Tell me what you've done with the apartment." Nora asked as Casey took her seat and they all tucked into their food. Nora knew what the apartment looked like, because Casey had emailed her pictures. They were just pictures of the place where Derek and Casey lived – without Derek and Casey in them.

Casey had managed to get the loaded dinner plate smuggled into her bedroom and Derek without the rest of the family seeing because they were all so busy filling their own plates. She was glad that Marti was all grown up because her seat was directly opposite the door to Casey's room and a younger Marti, who wasn't in on the secret, would have been the first to call attention to the clandestine manoeuvres going on behind Nora and Lizzie's backs. The male portion of the family were arguing over garlic bread.

Casey relaxed a little, relieved that Derek was still there, that he now had food in front of him and was clearly adhering to her request – for the time being at least. She just hoped he could stay quietly in the bedroom until their family took themselves home.

Dinner was...interesting. Oblivious to the tension between Casey and Marti, the other Venturis were happy to laugh and joke – or in Robbie's case "fart and joke". Gentle teasing and bodily functions included, the meal began to resemble some of the choice ones of Casey's teenage years and if she wasn't so distracted by the impending doom, she would have been mildly nostalgic.

"Hey! Case. Did Dad tell you about his latest car-tastrophy?" Edwin asked, his mouth still negotiating garlic bread – a fact which earned him a look of disdain from all the females around the table. Casey ignored the temptation to comment on the sight before her, because he was after-all an adult now, and shook her head to indicate the negative.

"Go on Dad tell her." Edwin insisted.

"Edwin..." George complained, but Nora was giggling.

"Go on Georgie, it's a good one."

"No it isn't." George insisted and then turning to Casey... "No. It. Isn't."

Casey grinned. "Very embarrassing?"

Nora and Edwin glanced at each other and dissolved into a flood of giggles. Robbie laughed so hard he started to choke and Lizzie had to bang him on the back.

"Well I think it was very silly and..."

"And nothing Lizard!" Edwin interrupted. "Go on Dad. You know one of us will tell it if you don't."

Casey frowned. "Edwin. Maybe George doesn't find it as amusing as you do." She raised a questioning eyebrow to Marti.

"Don't look at me. I haven't heard it either." The latter replied.

George sighed.

"You're going to bug me until I give in, aren't you?"

"Yes!" The whole family said in unison. Nora patted his hand.

"There there, honey. Just spit it out and it will hurt less...like a band aid." She chuckled. George shot her a look of contempt.

"Oh what the hell..." He said and threw his napkin on the table. "You know that I've been looking for a new car for a while." He led.

Casey nodded. George and his "new car" (which the family had nicknamed The Vehicle Soon To Be Known As The Prince Mark II) had been the stuff of legend – before he had even picked the car up.

Also legend was his competition with his co-worker who had a similar love of cars – or as Nora liked to put it "a late-middle age crisis".

"Well," George went on. "I finally picked the car up two weeks ago last Thursday."

"Is it nice?" Casey asked politely.

Derek, listening through the small crack in her bedroom door rolled his eyes at her question. "Nice?" Cars weren't nice. Or at least not the ones he hoped his father would buy with a little money and the approaching doom of fifty on the horizon.

Derek was sitting against the wall, the door open a minute amount, the plate of pasta on his lap, and a full wine glass on the floor beside him. Just because he couldn't interact with his family, didn't mean that he couldn't listen to them interact.

"Nice?" George coughed in surprise. "Nice? You don't call cars like this "nice"! _She_ is an angel. She glides like a dream and purrs like a jaguar and..."

"And Nora, I think the time has come to file for divorce because clearly Dad has been unfaithful to you." Marti pointed out. "With a hunk of steel and rubber. You know if he could he would probably sleep with it."

Nora laughed. "I've been sleeping with it for nearly a year now. The pile of brochures he's acquired and insists on reading in bed..."

"Am I telling this story or are you?" George objected.

"Sorry." Nora said, raising her napkin to wipe her mouth clean of food– and the last snigger from her face.

Casey met Marti's eyes with a grin.

"So _as I was saying_." George resumed. "I've got a new car."

Edwin piped up.

"It's not just a car. It's sex on wheels!"

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Edwin... It's a car. If that's "sex" for you, you need to get out a lot more."

(In Casey's bedroom, Derek clamped his mouth together to avoid making a sound.)  
"But it's..." Ediwn started.

Robbie leaned back. "...430 horse power, 0-60 in 4.2 seconds..."

"Black. With black leather seats." Edwin chipped in.

"Alright!" George shouted. "Let me tell this f...freaking story before I lose the will to live!"

Several faces hid grins...except Derek who, not having to hide his grin, chuckled softly from his vantage point on Casey's floor.

"So. I get my new car and Annabelle is just..."

"Annabelle?" Nora asked, suddenly interested.

George looked uneasy. "Erm...yeah... Annabelle."

"Who the _hell_ is Annabelle?" Nora asked, the volume increasing with each syllable.

George muttered something which Nora failed to catch.

"What?"

Lizzie sighed. "He said Annabelle is the car. He named his freaking car...Annabelle."

"Well that scuppers the "Prince Mark II" nickname." Marti commented into her glass of wine. " I guess "The Prince" just became a "Princess"."

"Oh for F..." George caught Nora's eye. "Oh hell! Let me get on with it...please!"

They all coughed and settled down.

"I drive my car out of the dealers and because it's my lunch hour, I drive around a bit...enjoying her – I mean...it." George amended as Nora's eyes narrowed.

"Eventually, it's time to go back to work but that particular afternoon we were on a seminar at the local Holiday Inn, so I drive straight there instead.

I'm a little late when I get there and the hotel only has valet-parking which is a bit chaotic because, as I find out later, three of their valets are off-sick with food-poisoning."

"They ate in the restaurant." Lizzie pointed out. "I worked there once when I was a new student. Worked there...I wouldn't _eat_ there."

George glared at her.

"Sorry." Lizzie said and mimed zipping her lips.

"I pull up, and I give the guy my name and the car keys and then I go into the hotel and join my colleagues."

Nora sat up straight. "Now what you have to understand," she said to Casey and Marti. "Is that George has been fighting a "I'm a bigger-man-than-you-are" battle with Antony Shufflebotham from Accounts about their cars. They both think they know everything about cars. That they are...what's it call Robbie?"

"Petrol-heads Mom. Dad thinks he's a petrol-head."

Marti bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

"And when they both decide to replace their cars at the same time..."  
"Let the games begin!" Edwin interjected. Nora smiled and nodded

"So..."

"So!" George interrupted his wife with a glare. "I leave the car with the valets who are supposed to guard the cars _with their lives_ yet clearly don't because..."  
"...because when Dad comes out again at the end of the evening...he's lost the little ticket which unites him and his car." Edwin explains.

"Okay..." Casey said in understanding.

"So..."

"So! I go up to the valet desk and try to explain and after fifteen frustrating minutes, the production of my driver's licence and the bill of sale for the car, the valet manager agrees to hand me my car."

George paused while he sipped his wine.

"They pull up in the car at the drive-thru collection point hand me my keys: a set of 2011 Chevy Corvette keys...brand spanking new swinging from the brand new key fob. I am so relieved to finally have my car that I merely glare at the concierge guy, press the bleeper, get in and roar off. I cruise up the highway excited to see Nora and the rest of the family because I know they are going to love Ann...the new car." George paused again.

"And then it happens."  
Casey looks taken aback.

"What happens?"

"About twenty minutes into the commute home, I see flashing lights in the rearview mirror."  
"Don't tell me you were going over the speed limit again. I thought Mom..."  
"No! I wasn't. I was just under the limit actually."

"So why...?"

George ignored Casey.

"I pulled over at the next opportunity and the cops promptly arrest me."

Casey's eyes widened.

"Why?"

Edwin chuckled and filled in the story before George could.

"Theft of a motor vehicle. It turns out Antony from Accounts is so like Dad that they ordered the same car at the same time from the same dealership. Antony's had come in earlier in the day and he'd picked it up before joining everyone else at the conference. The only difference between the two cars was the colour – which under the sodium lights at the valet drive-thru were all skewed."  
George frowned. "The incompetent valets had given me the wrong keys and let me drive away with the wrong car."

Casey laughed. "But surely it was easily rectified?"

Nora giggled. "Not until they had rung me to go and bail him out. Which of course I did...although if I had known about Annabelle..."

George looked unimpressed. "And then that cheeky asshole, Shufflebotham tries to get me to pay for his brand new car to be deep steam-cleaned because my shoes were dirty and it was raining." George huffed.

Derek thought he was going to piss himself.


	9. The Reunion Part Two

**AN: Just in case you thought that little anecdote in the previous chapter was far-fetched. I got the following review after I posted it:**

**From kristen12386:**

"**Oh my God! The story you just told is so similar to that of a story about my friend's dad. His work building has a valet and he has just gotten a new toyota corolla, blue. Well he goes to pick up his car and the valet guys give him his keys and he sets off. He gets home and my friend and I are there. I turned to my friend Julia and asked why her dad got rid of his new car and got a honda accord. Joe (Julia's father) came in and keep commenting on how roomy the car felt and that he really did such a good car for such a cheap price. Julia and I just stared in astonishment...bc not only was the car different but it was black as well. We literally had to bring him out there and show him the make of the car before he realized his error. Sorry such a long story, but it was just so funny! "**

* * *

"So...Casey..How's it hanging?" Edwin asked, leaning up against the work-surface in the kitchen.

"How's what hanging, Ed?" Casey asked in a distracted voice as she cleaned the kitchen.

"You know...life, the universe, everything."

Casey wiped down a work-surface and cocked her head.

"That would depend."  
"On what?" Ed asked casually.

"On where you're going with this?" Casey said, throwing the cloth into the sink and turning to face him, her arms folded across her chest. Her posture was strangely familiar and Edwin realised that she had unconsciously adopted a standard Derek-pose.

"Why do I have to be "going" somewhere?" Edwin asked with what he hoped was nonchalance. It failed because Casey-channelling-Derek was as intimidating as Derek _being_ Derek.

"You have the subtlety of a brick, Edwin Venturi and I should have known that you would screw this up." A voice said from the doorway.

Lizzie. (Another person who on occasion could surgically removed Edwin's balls with a single glare.)

"Hi Liz." Casey said with a grin. "Is this an old Lizwin special?"

Lizzie frowned "Lizwin?"

Casey widened the grin. "You know...joint tactical operation between you and Ed. Not unexpected over the years although I do think you are a little old for the games cupboard."

Her sister waved the comment away. "There was no "games cupboard" involved in this discussion we just both agreed that you and Marti are looking very shifty tonight. Marti looks like she did that time with Dimi's robot." Lizzie pointed out. "And you looked distracted the way you always do when your brain is out to lunch."

Casey shrugged. "Marti always looks shifty, she's a Venturi."

"And your excuse is...?"

Casey didn't lose the smile. "Guilt by association? You're wasting your time, you two. I've just been running around trying to make sure that the food is on the table for my guests – who," Casey slapped Edwin's hand away from the plate of "after dinner" chocolates. "...apparently want to eat me out of house and home."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. "This isn't your home any more, Casey. You've made that very clear."

There was a tone to her voice that made Edwin wince and move away into the other room. He wondered if Marti would be more forthcoming about what she was up to. He certainly didn't want to hang around if the conversation between Casey and Lizzie was going to become awkward. Especially since Casey was withholding the chocolates.

Left in the kitchen, Casey sighed, knowing that part of Lizzie's problem was the new distance between them: physical and emotional.

"I'm sorry, sis. I can't help the fact that I need to be somewhere else now. You saw how I was when I lived here. I wasn't functioning."  
"It's not just the physical distance. You've changed, Casey." Lizzie pointed out. "You're doing things that I never would have put you down for. You're behaving in ways I just don't recognise as Casey McDonald."

"Maybe that's because the changes needed to be made." Casey said. "I didn't like what I had become."

"Neither did I, Case. But we're not talking about giving up cheerleading here. I'm worried that you've swapped an obsession with one man for obsession with another."

Despite herself and the gravity of the conversation, Casey smiled a little.

"I haven't." She said truthfully. "Believe me Liz, I really haven't." She regarded her little sister with interest. "Mom got to you, didn't she?"

"Yes, but she didn't need to. I thought it myself. I don't like how no one else in the family has met him."

"Marti has." Casey said without thinking.

Lizzie's eyes widened. "Marti?" She said astonished and Casey didn't miss the slight jealous note to Lizzie's surprise. Lizzie was Casey's real sister, Marti was only her step-sister, yet it was the latter who had met the guy that Casey had apparently given up everything for.

"Liz...don't take it personally, okay. It's just the circumstances..."  
"What did she do? Appear on your doorstep or something? Edwin suggested we do that but I told him you'd be really upset."

"No, she accidentally bumped into us." _In the bedroom._ Casey added to herself so that she wasn't truly lying. This half-truth thing was getting easier.

"Where? London?"

Casey nodded.

Of course the trouble with half-truths is they inevitably inspire subsequent questions and sometimes the answers to those are even harder to give than those for the original.

"He came to London? When?"

Casey opened her mouth to answer, but was saved by her mother.

"Honey, we're going to head off. George has got a community law surgery tomorrow and the doors open at seven am."

"Community law?"

Nora smiled. "The practice has extended its community service from just cut-price legal advice to offering free legal advice once a month. They open first thing in the morning and work their way through the waiting people until seven pm. George is exhausted when he gets home but he says it makes him feel good."

Casey was impressed with George's philanthropy. "That's amazing!"

"Thank you." Lizzie answered and seeing Casey's confused expression grinned. "It was my idea."

"Wow Liz!"

"I had some friends with squatting issues who couldn't afford legal advice. George managed to help them – because the landlord really was in the wrong – and he enjoyed doing it. I suggested he made a habit of it."

Nora smiled at her younger daughter. "He's really grateful. George likes taking the part of the underdog, or rather taking on the establishment, even if it is about an old lady getting a parking ticket for parking outside her own house. Lizzie, are you coming with us?"

Lizzie nodded. "My car's at their house." She noted to Casey. "But you and I haven't finished our little discussion."

Nora acted as though she didn't hear.

Casey nodded. "I know."

She wondered how she was going to deal with the topic when the time came.

* * *

In the end, the entire family left in one go. Edwin had no desire to be left in the company of Marti and Casey when the rest of the family had gone. He had a feeling rather than him interrogating them to find out what they were up to, they would perform some sort of tag-team approach and manage to coax out of him the fact that he had been unceremoniously dumped...again. It was still quite raw, and only Lizzie knew about it.

He had told Lizzie the night he bailed her out of jail, explaining why he had the dinner reservation going spare. They had made a pact. He wouldn't tell their parents about the arrest-thing, and she wouldn't reveal about the whole "caught my girlfriend with another girl" situation.

It was sad, because he had thought that particular girl was perfect and she got on so well with the rest of the family – particularly Lizzie. She had even dealt really well with his unfortunate occasional blurts about girls with...large investments. In fact, come to think of it she had made a few blurts of her own.

Maybe she had been a little too keen to get on well with Lizzie...

So in summary, Edwin, through a degree of cowardice about being quizzed on his (lack of) love life, left with George, Nora. Lizzie and Robbie.

As the last of the Venturis passed out of the front door, Casey closed it with a click.

"Wait!" She announced as Marti took a step towards the bedroom. Casey crossed to the window overlooking the street and watched as the family got in their respective cars. Then Edwin pulled away in one direction. George in another.

She also noted how each car immediately acquired a non-descript tail; dark saloons with two regulation hair-cuts in the front seats.

Spike was good at his job.

"Okay. They've gone." She said, making no further audible comment on her observations. Marti made for the bedroom door, but it opened before she got there and Derek came into the living room.

And for a moment, they all stood and stared at each other.

Marti recovered first.

"You bastard!" She screamed at Derek, throwing her body towards him, her fists pummelling him in the chest as he lifted her up. "I thought you were fucking dead!"

"I'm sorry." Derek muttered, deciding to berate her about her language later. "I am so so sorry!"

He held her to him as the anger turned to sobs, and then the fist-thumps became pecked kisses on his cheek. Sisterly of course...in a way that Casey's would never be.

Eventually, her anger was spent and the realisation that he was alive and in front of her hit Marti like a bowling ball.

"I hit you." Marti sobbed as she tried in vain to smooth out creases in Derek's t-shirt; creases caused by her tears. "I'm sorry."

"I deserved it." Derek mumbled back. "You shouldn't worry. Casey hit me harder than that when she found out I was still alive." He chuckled. "Although she kissed me first. I don't know what was more frightening."

Watching from a few feet away, Casey snorted at his comments, but there were tears running down her cheeks too. She knew Derek would give her hell about it but she couldn't ignore the emotions which surfaced as she watched Derek and the little sister he loved so deeply as they enjoyed their reunion. It was bitter-sweet because although they no longer mourned Derek, they now mourned the lost years and there was an additional sadness in the fact that the rest of the family weren't here having a similar reaction.

As she watched Derek looked up at Casey over Marti's head and she saw tears on his own cheeks. Apparently, Derek Venturi did tears too.

Stunned, Casey sniffed as _her_ tears began afresh – he held out a hand to her, and when she took it, Derek drew her into the hug he was sharing with Marti. Between them, the two girls turned his t-shirt into a wet dish cloth, while he pressed kisses against both their heads and tightened his arms around the two most important women in his life.

* * *

It took a while before everyone stopped crying. Casey decided that they all deserved some additional fortification and opened another bottle of wine. It had been a dry-ish evening, because with all the drivers in the room, and the tension of knowing what Derek had said to Casey earlier about being at risk again, neither the family nor Casey had felt in the mood for drinking much while they were eating. Now of course was different. There was something to celebrate and Casey had a feeling they would be talking long into the night.

It was strange, Marti decided. Despite all the hugging and love suddenly present, from the moment the three of them broke out of their hug, there was a new tension in the air. Casey might be talking to her, offering wine, but her eyes were having a different conversation with Derek's. It confused Marti a little, and she kept waiting for one of them to share the secret, but neither of them spoke.

As they pottered around the room, tidying and getting ready for the long discussion that was inevitable, the tension remained, Marti would have put it down to a typical Derek and Casey fight but she watched (still-confused) as Derek gently touched Casey whenever he could. He slid an affectionate arm around her shoulders, moved her to one side with his hand on the small of her back when he needed to pass by her, and he squeezed her shoulders even as he teased her with comments about her planning and organisational skills. Marti had known there was something developing, but the small signs of affection were still a shock to her. The last time she had spent any significant time with her brother and her step-sister they had hated each other with a passion.

Now it appeared most of the hate had dissolved and all that was left was the passion.

Certainly watching them right now was like watching Victorian foreplay – all chaste actions but with plenty of longing looks and subtle contact. It was a heavy atmosphere, but not necessarily an unpleasant one; certainly less exhausting than the old days where being in the room with Derek and Casey would give you a headache – or a very strong urge to bash their heads together.

Marti smiled to herself as she concluded that urge hadn't disappeared as such, just mutated into what could best be summed up as the desire to shout "Get a room already!"

In time, they each found comfortable spots to sit in the living room. Marti had hung back, waiting to see where Derek sat down before she made her own choice. She wanted to be near him after so long apart.

There was a recliner as well as the couch and she expected him to take the former, but he didn't. When Casey placed the bottle of wine, glasses and the uneaten dinner chocolates on the coffee table, she immediately sat down on the couch and Derek picked the spot beside her. It left Marti the recliner which she was pleasantly surprised about because she knew it was the most comfortable of the seating in the room. It also suited her because its position next to the couch meant that Derek was now placed between Marti and Casey.

Casey leaned back in her seat on the couch, the action automatically bringing her up against Derek's side. Neither he nor Casey appeared aware that he dropped his arm down from the back of the couch to her waist, his fingers finding her hip bone and brushing against it gently. Casey unconsciously dropped her own hand to his, linking their fingers.

When she got over the renewed shock of how much things had changed between her two eldest "siblings", Marti started to contemplate what that meant for them, for her and for the rest of the family.

"Where do you want to start?" Derek asked his little sister, breaking across her thoughts. "I know you are going to have questions."

As he spoke, Casey rested against him, sipping her wine and he glanced at her with a smile. He knew there were hard conversations to be had with Casey – and soon- but for now his time and his explanations were for Marti. She had kept their secrets for months, the least he could do was share some of his recent history with her.

The delay in the argument with Casey was helpful too. He could sit calmly beside her on the couch, enjoying her proximity in ways that wouldn't be possible tomorrow. Tomorrow he would have to leave and he wondered if she would ever forgive him.

Casey continued to sip her wine. She too could see the argument on the horizon and part of her wanted to start it now, in her mind there were a hundred reasons why Derek shouldn't go – reasons he could not fail to listen to. But right now...this was Marti's time and she wouldn't take that from her step-sister; not when Derek was leaving again. Casey felt Derek's shoulder beneath her head, his arm around her middle and his lips in her hair. Part of her wanted to fight now...the rest of her wanted to stay exactly as she was for as long as she could get away with it.

* * *

The evening progressed. Derek retold the tale of the events leading up to his death, at which point Casey took over the story-telling until they reached the stage where he woke from the induced coma to his new life.

Marti listened and shed a tear or two, and she even asked a few questions. She got information from the story, it was true - it was nice to hear the scenes that were missing or clouded in her memory. But whilst she took that information in, what she got more than anything else was less tangible. For a couple of hours she could just sit there and listen to the sound of Derek's voice, alive, full of his character, and nearly eight years after she thought he had died.

When the bad stuff had been told they moved onto the good stuff; the "Derek meets Casey stuff" and the details of their life in Ottawa. It was the anecdotal history that was guaranteed to make Marti laugh. Derek told of Casey meeting Jazz for the first time, and Casey told about the early days of living together – particularly the occasion when Derek had emerged naked from the bathroom one morning completely forgetting that Casey was still in bed. (They neglected to tell Marti that it wasn't the first time that Casey had seen Derek without any clothes.)

To Marti it felt weird to hear how they shared a bed and to see that neither of them minded. By this stage, now almost acclimatised to the sight of Derek with his arm around Casey, Marti expected them to come clean and admit to their relationship. Knowing them both so well, Marti thought Casey would blush and Derek smirk at the story of their eventual..._coupling?_ but she never got to test her theory, because when given a slight prompt, they both denied being anything other than best friends. (Terminology which would have been astounding in its own right – if it was true. And Marti was certain that it wasn't).

About 1am, Casey announced that she couldn't stay awake any more and stood up. Immediately, Derek missed the warmth of the make-shift hot water bottle that had been resting against him for hours but said nothing.

"So what's the plan for tomorrow?" Marti asked yawning too.

"I'm going to let myself wake up naturally, then we'll pack up the car and head home." Casey said, stretching. "_We've_ got work on Monday."

She said it with conviction as if making a point. For some reason, despite her tiredness, now that Marti had had her turn at Derek's attention Casey felt the need to allude to the argument that they all knew was coming. Even if for Marti it was just a sense of rising tension.

"Erm..." Derek started and frowned. Casey looked at him with mock innocence, raising an eyebrow as though daring him to contradict her. She knew what was going through his mind.

Seeing the approaching conflict, Marti turned to her brother. "_Are_ you going back with Casey" She asked Derek who was now engaged in a staring competition with Casey.

He didn't want to have this discussion now. He wanted a nice calm conversation with Casey in the morning, where he could have time to formulate how he was going to explain his plan to her. She needed to stay in London, away from him. It was less a case of him leaving her and more a case of her staying away from him.

"I don't want to talk about this now." He said. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, when we're not tired and...emotional."

Marti closed her eyes. "Bad choice of words, Derek." She muttered quietly. She may not understand what the argument was going to be about but she knew that nothing good ever comes of a guy accusing a girl of being "emotional". Particularly when the guy is Derek Venturi and the girl, Casey McDonald.

Casey's reaction wasn't quiet. "Emotional? Why would I get _emotional_ about it? Rather egocentric isn't it Derek? Expecting that I'll get _emotional _about you leaving us again. Maybe I'll be pleased to see the back of you." In her anger, Casey forgot about Marti.

"Leaving?" Marti asked, her heart sinking.

Derek took a deep breath. _Shit._

"Derek's panicking." Casey said as Marti began to feel six again – small with a trembling bottom lip. "There's evidence his cover maybe blown – which is why he's here – to say goodbye - He is about to disappear off the planet again and he thinks he can do that without consulting us."

"Derek?" Marti questioned.

"That's not exactly true. _I'm _going back to Ottawa tomorrow, yes." Derek said firmly. "But Casey is staying here. It's safer. You're all going to have protection." he looked at the disbelief on their faces. "And it's not as if I won't be in touch." derek added lamely at the end.

Casey glared at him."Like hell I am I staying here. Protection _Smection._ I'm going back to Ottawa and _you're_ not leaving again. Not if I have anything to say about it. You need me..I mean _us_ and I'm sticking to you like...like...like a bad case of Herpes."

Derek frowned. "Did you just compare yourself to an STD?"

Casey snorted. "Seems only fair since one of us is already an irritating _rash_." She tilted her head to one side. "And stop trying to distract me by making us argue about something else. We're arguing about you leaving m...Ottawa."

"No we're not." Derek objected. "We're arguing about the fact that you need to stay in London."

Marti sighed. "Only you two could argue about being together when that's clearly what you both want."

"What?" They both turned to her.

"We're not arguing about being together. We're just..." Derek started. Casey rolled her eyes.

"I'm not happy about Derek making decisions about my life for me."

"I'm making sure you _have_ a life, Drama queen!"

"No you're not. There is nothing to say that I'd be any safer here than I would be in Ottawa. I have commitments in Ottawa. Remember?"

"You mean like your commitment to _Robin? _I thought this was about not wanting to live without _me_ in your life."  
"You egotistical jerk!" Casey snapped.

Marti sort of agreed with Casey, although right now Derek sounded more like a jealous jerk than an egotistical one. But, he had a point too.

Didn't he?

Marti groaned. Her head was hurting.

"Look. Why don't you take time to sleep on it? We're all a bit emoti...drunk. No one is going to say the right thing tonight. Why don't you get a good night's sleep and make your decision tomorrow?" She looked up, suddenly aware that she was standing between Derek and Casey – a position no one in their right mind wants to adopt.

They glared at her...Marti stepped out of the way and they glared at each other instead.

"_You_...You can have the bed. I'm sleeping on the couch!"Casey said finally. And with that she stormed off to get changed, slamming the bedroom door and leaving Derek mid-stinging retort.


	10. Advice

Derek found Marti in the kitchen the next morning. Dressed in yellow and red tartan pyjamas, she was eating cereal and sipping at a giant-sized cup of coffee. He frowned wondering if he had ever seen Marti drink coffee before. It was just so grown up! He looked back over his shoulder at the empty couch he had just passed.

"Where's Itchy McSnores-a-lot?" He asked. Marti glanced up, an eyebrow arched.

"Casey snores?" She enquired.

"Not really." Derek shrugged. "Only when she has a cold. Where is she?"

"Do you have any idea how unnerving it is that you even _know_ that?" His sister asked turning her attention back to her cereal bowl. Derek rolled his eyes but Marti continued. "Tell me, when you guys sleep together, do you both wear pjs or is clothing optional?"

He dead-panned. "Neither. Casey thinks that fabric between us ruins our skin-to-skin bonding so we're both naked."

Marti spat her cereal out in shock causing Derek to chuckle. "Relax Smarts, I'm kidding. We wear pjs. Now are you going to tell me where she is, or do I have to beat it out of you?"

"She's taken the car to the gas station to fill up and check tyre pressures and stuff." Marti said, wiping her dripping chin with the back of her hand. "And just in case you thought you were off the hook, you're not. She's still pissed as hell at you. You'll be lucky if she gives you a ride back to Ottawa. You might have to walk."

"She needs to stay here, Marti. It's safer."

"I'd say the choice was Casey's not yours." Marti said laying her spoon in her empty bowl. "She wants to be in Ottawa. For some ridiculous reason she cares enough about you to want to be with you."

"She's insane. Someone is trying to kill me and she wants in on it."

His sister grinned and he realised what he had said.

"I mean she wants to share the danger."

"Actually, the idea of Casey trying to kill you sounds far more realistic, D." Marti pointed out.

"We aren't like that anymore." Derek said, offended.

Marti shrugged. "You didn't see Casey this morning." she warned.

"Fuck." He sighed and sat down. "I don't want her hurt, Marti."

"Then stop hurting her."

"I'm not."

Marti gave him a "give-me-a-break" look. "You spend all these months living together and now that there is a problem you say you don't want her anymore."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to Derek. Your actions say it for you."

Derek looked away. "It shouldn't be any other way, anyway." He tried to justify himself. "Why would Casey expect me to "want" her?"

"Gah! The pair of you! Derek listen to yourself, please! You live together. You touch each other constantly. The UST in that living room last night was so bad I nearly vomited. I may have only been a kid when we all lived together but Casey's always been the one who pressed your buttons and it's obvious that she's still at the controls right now."  
"She's not...I'm not...that's stupid, Marti."

"Is it? Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't think about Casey that way."  
Derek stared his sister down. "I don't think about Casey that way."

"Bullshit Derek. The only reason you can do that is because you had so much practice lying to Lassiter and Dad." She took a deep breath. "Look, hun. I'm only going to say this once and then I'll drop it, okay?"  
Derek was cautious. "Okay."

Marti leaned back on her chair and folded her arms. "Break Casey's heart and I'll kill you."

Derek was slightly peeved. "A bit biased? What happened to loving your brother?"  
His sister stood up and put her bowl in the sink. "That was me loving my _sister_." She explained, moving towards the door. "The "loving my brother" bit came first thing this morning when I said the same thing to Casey about you."

* * *

"Is that everything?" Derek asked Casey as he put the last box in her car.

No response.

"Casey?"

No response.

Gazing briefly heaven-wards, Marti stepped forward. "Casey, have you got everything?"

"I think so." Casey replied, not looking at Derek. Marti rolled her eyes and hid a smile.

"Are you sure you two can make this journey without killing each other?"

It was Casey who replied. "Don't be ridiculous, Marti. _I'm_ driving. No one is going to die."  
Derek snorted. "Because the roads aren't safe when I'm behind the wheel?" He muttered.

Casey opened her mouth to give a retort, realised that would involve talking to Derek and closed her mouth again. She turned to Marti.

"I'm just going for a..."

"...last and final pee...yeah, we know. You always do." Derek interrupted with a grump.

Casey glared at him and stomped off into the apartment building.

Marti looked at Derek. "Aw! You sound just like an old married couple. Probably best to try not to make her more angry than she already is, Derek. Her only crime is caring about you."

"Why am I the bad guy here? I just want her to be safe."

"And that's all she wants for you. She sees you going into danger and she knows that she's a doctor. She wants to be close in case she can save you."  
He frowned. "I thought you said she wanted to go back to Ottawa because she "loves" me."

Marti smiled. "That as well. Seriously, you two are funny. Having a serious conversation with you about Casey is like déjà vu. I feel like I've had the conversation before...which I normally have, only with Casey." She put a hand on his arm. "Look after each other. Make Casey happy, Smerek."

"What makes you think she'll let me?"  
Marti grinned in an annoying way.

They continued to stand for a few moments beside the car, not saying anything. Neither of them wanted this goodbye, but both of them were grateful there had been a "hello".

"I'm not leaving you for good Smarti, you know that don't you?" Derek said casually throwing an arm around his little sister's shoulders.

Marti nodded. "I won't let you, D. I'm not going to stop you doing your job, but I wouldn't stay out of this argument if I thought you were going to completely sever ties again."  
"It wasn't my choice last time."

"I know I understand." Marti smiled. "Of course, part of the reason I'm so accepting is that I know Casey will keep you on the straight and narrow."

"She doesn't have that much control over me you know." Derek objected.

"Ha ha. That's hilarious."

"Marti..." He warned.

"You should just tell her you love her." Marti said a while later.

"Tell her I _what_?" Derek looked at Marti in disbelief. "I don't..."  
"...yes, you do. Tell her."

Casey emerged from the apartment building as Marti spoke, and walked towards them. As she drew level with Marti the one sister turned to the other.

"And you," Marti announced to Casey. "You remember what I said to you this morning." Casey blushed making Derek wonder about the conversation but before he could ask, Marti was hugging him tightly.

"I'll miss you." She said softly.

"I'll miss you too." Derek said. He watched as Marti turned to hug Casey, and then he followed Casey to the car where they both got in.

Before they pulled away and determined to leave with the upper hand, Derek rolled down his window.

"Oh, Smarti?"

"Yes Smerek?"  
"Just for the record, I may have been distracted this visit but I am aware of certain "events" in _your_ love life. Tell Simon I have a gun and I'm trained and licensed to use it. _Next time_ I come to London I fully intend to meet my little sister's first boyfriend. He might want to start running now." He smiled menacingly.

Marti's face paled as Casey, trying to hide a tiny grin, pulled out into the line of traffic.

"Just so I know," Derek began about ten minutes into the journey. "Are you planning on ignoring me _all_ the way home?"

Casey said nothing.

"I thought so." Derek muttered, put in his ipod ear buds and cranked up the volume.

Casey didn't just ignore Derek on the way home, she ignored him when they got home too. But, what was worse was the way she pulled an air mattress from the hall cupboard, blew it up and promptly made up a bed for herself in the spare room. That had never happened before.

* * *

She still wasn't talking to him when they left for work the following morning. Casey merely emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, grabbed her medical bag and left. Derek watched her go from the apartment window. He groaned. Clearly, this cold shoulder approach was going to last a long time.

"What's the matter with you?" Jazz asked about twenty minutes into Derek's shift as they drove to check out a snitch.

"Nothing." Derek muttered.

"Seriously? You're so tense I could trampoline on your ass."

"It's nothing." Derek hissed back.

Jazz's expression lost its jovial nature. "Derek, it's something. Either you're still pissed about the whole Rich/Spike thing or something happened during that relaxing trip to London you weren't authorised to take. Either way you're going to talk about it because I'm not a big fan of secrets anymore and neither is my fucking leg. "

"I don't need to get authorisation to take a trip on my _vacation_."  
"Spike thinks you do."

"Well Spike can take a running jump. As can you."

"Jesus what crawled up your hole?" Jazz was surprised. It took a lot to rile Derek, mainly because you have to care about something to get worked up about it and until Casey had come back on the scene there had been little to care about.

"Mind your own!"

"Let me guess. It's got something to do with Casey?"

Derek glared at him and turned away but Jazz slapped him on the upper arm with the back of his hand..

"What did she do? Steal all the bed clothes?" He grinned.  
"Jazz..." Derek warned.

"Come on dude. Who else are you going to talk to? Spike?"

Derek sighed. In the past the only person he had to talk to had been Spike so he had largely kept his feelings to himself; it wasn't a good idea to let your boss know about personal crises. Having Jazz aware made things...interesting, particularly as in Derek's absence he appeared to have not only accepted Derek's back story but also begun to use Derek's real name when addressing him.

Derek scratched at the side of his nose and relented.

"Casey's pissed at me. That's nothing new but she's taken it to a new level."

"Oh?"  
"I want her to stay in London with our family. Spike's put the whole family under surveillance and a guard. Casey would be safer with them there than here."

"And Casey didn't want to stay in London." Jazz guessed. "She's worried about her career?"

Derek shook his head. "She says..." Deep breath. "She says she doesn't want to be away from me. She says I need her and she's stopped talking to me."

There was silence for a moment.

"Wow!" Jazz said. He smiled. "And how does that make you feel?"

His partner frowned at him. "You a shrink now?"  
Jazz chuckled. "I meant how does her confession make you feel?"

"Confession?"  
"It's a big deal, Derek. Your pseudo-girlfriend told you she cares about you."  
"My "pseudo-girlfriend" is my sister. Of course she fucking cares about me."

Jazz sighed. "Cut that shit out, it's old. She's not your sister. At least not legally. If I were you, I'd be turning cartwheels and then moving right on to tapping that ass."

There were no words to explain the degree of restraint Derek needed right at that moment.

"Jazz, right now, everyone close to me is in danger. My family and my friends. I need to put in place measures to keep them safe and one of the best ways to do that is to distance myself from them. My lame _step_-sister won't take the fucking hint and stay away from me. She's putting herself _in danger_ from the same people who shot me in the head. She may care about me, but I care about her too and strangely seeing her with the back of her head missing is not something I'm in a hurry to witness. So she can start whistling the fucking wedding march for all I care and it isn't going to change the fact that being around me is going to get her killed."

Jazz looked taken aback.

"But that's why _you're_ angry with her." He stated. "And she's back in Ottawa so she got her way. Why is _she_ angry with you?"  
Derek shrugged. "She thinks I'm pushing her away. And she right. If she won't stay in London, I won't stay in Ottawa. Marti says Casey's angry because I'm rejecting her because I don't want to be with her."

"And do you?"

"Do I what?"  
"Want to be with her?"

"I don't want her to die."  
"But if that wasn't hanging over you?"

Derek pulled a face but it was a contemplative one.

"I don't know."

* * *

As the day wore on, Derek had a meeting with Spike while his boss confirmed the security arrangements that were being made for the rest of the family. He raised a curious eyebrow when Derek acknowledged Casey's non-cooperation with the whole "stay away from Derek" idea.

"Did you expect her to?" Spike asked.

"Well I hoped her survival instinct would kick in." Derek stated.

Spike chuckled. "I've been married a long time and I can tell you that you should never tell a woman what to do, Derek. It always backfires on you. I doubt very much that you would ever get Casey to do something for you, willingly, by flat out stating she should do it."

"So what do we do?"  
"How co-operative do you think she'll be?"  
"Not at all, at least if it comes from me."

"So it coming from someone else might make a difference? I can try and have a word with her if you like."

Derek thought about it. "I doubt it would work, but she probably needs some reassurance about the rest of the family's safety and I can't give it to her because she's not talking to me."

"Hmm. Okay. I'll go see her. Now that you've calmed the fuck down, how do you think we should play this whole Sal business?"

"I think I should lay low, maybe go into hiding."

"You could, although that makes looking after everyone rather resource intensive. The fewer places I need to cover the better. Plus, you know Casey. She'll camp out in my office until one of us cracks as to where you are."

"I wouldn't tell you where I was. I'd just call in now and again. And Casey would get the message eventually."

"You really believe that? She would never forgive you. You know, sometimes you achieve more if you work together on stuff."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, if you let Casey stay and stay yourself, maybe we will all end up wasting less time trying to keep her safe."

Derek took a deep breath. "I don't want her hurt, Spike."

"Then make sure you aren't the one doing the hurting."

Derek groaned, not missing the fact that was the second time in two days that someone had said that to him.

* * *

Casey _was_ hurting. She was hurting a lot. The trouble was she was having a hard time justifying why. When she tried to look at things from Derek's point of view she really didn't see why he should treat her any differently than he had. They weren't dating. Casey should have no expectations of any sort of commitment from him – not even a commitment to stay with her as a roommate.

But her heart said otherwise. Her heart put too much weight on the time they had spent together. It saw something in the way they behaved together; saw love where there was probably only affection, joy where there was probably only a degree of happiness and contentment where there was only convenience. She had over-committed herself, left her heart open to hurt. Most of the anger she felt was directed towards herself.

The anger towards Derek was more about the danger he was putting himself in.

Returning to work took her mind off things, but only in so far as her hands were busy. The cases before her didn't help the distraction. She dealt with four gunshots wounds on her first day back, the result of gang warfare. Sometimes it wasn't easy to be in Trauma. She knew that the status quo with Derek couldn't continue, but she didn't know how to turn it around. Because to watch him walk away was more painful every time it happened.

"I'm looking for Dr McDonald." The voice carried from the nurses' station as Casey dealt with a 70 year old man with angina in a curtained cubicle. He was stable and one of the house doctors was playing second chair, so Casey excused herself and went to find her visitor.

"Mr Thompson." Casey said in surprise as she recognised Spike. He was smiling so she knew not to panic. "To what do I owe the honour?"  
"Can't an old man visit a pretty girl?"

Casey snorted. "Nice try." She said. "But you're not an old man, you're a fairly young, happily married one who just so happens to be my brother's boss. I think we can all see the weak spots in that cover story."

Spike grinned. "Got time to talk?"

"Did Derek send you?"

"Not directly."

"Then fine. Coffee?" she asked and led him to the staff coffee lounge. Once there, Spike sat down. Casey chuckled.

"Don't get comfortable. I only came in here to get my purse. The coffee has been responsible for at least ten hospital admissions to my knowledge. We'll go across the street to the diner."

"So what _do_ I owe the pleasure?" Casey asked again as the waitress brought their coffees.

Spike looked thoughtful and then sat back.

"Derek thought you might want to know what safety measures we've put in place for your family."

Casey nodded. "Okay…"

Spike straightened. "I've spoken to your step-father and explained to him that the threat level has increased. We discussed the family's day-to-day schedule and came up with some minor improvements to make them safer, so that they can continue their normal routines. With an armed presence of course. We've increased security at each of their dwellings, and we're currently vetting all of the contacts they make during the course of their normal week. So far we haven't had any problems, except for one of your sister's boyfriends."

Casey felt a shiver, she couldn't bear it if Marti lost Simon, she was just so…in love.

"Who?" Casey asked.

Spike reached into his pocket and withdrew a notebook. "Some contact of your sister Elizabeth's. He's an eco-activist but he has a rap-sheet a mile long. Fortunately, Elizabeth doesn't seem too distressed at severing the connection. She's moved out of the squat she was in and is currently staying at Edwin's apartment. Apparently he has a spare room. The situation is a big win for the local police because it cuts down on the number of premises under surveillance."

Casey nodded.

"Your mum works from home, and your youngest brother has quite a rigid schedule so looking after them is quite straight forward. Your step-father isn't too happy because we've advised again him taking part in these drop-in clinics he's been running. An appointment system gives us a chance to check out his clients before they step foot across the threshold."

"Sounds good."

"It is."

"I'm sorry you had to make a special trip out to see me. Derek could have told me himself."

Spike tilted his head with a wry smile. "Could he? I gather things are a little frosty between you right now."

Casey shrugged. "Only so long as he's being unreasonable."

"He doesn't think he is."

"He's treating me like a child." She protested.

"He cares about you."  
Casey sat forward her voice a little raised. "And I care about him. I don't ask him to give up his job and stay at home all day."

"Is that what he asked you to do?"

"In a way. But it isn't about my job. It's about what I'm prepared to face. I can face the danger, I've done it before. What I can't face is the uncertainty, the silence, and the not knowing because he's hiding from me." She sipped at her coffee. "Maybe I'll only see him for a few minutes at night. Maybe he'll be grouchy as hell and a nightmare to live with. But with him it will be living. What I had in London…that wasn't living."

Spike nodded. "For what it's worth, I understand. And deep down, I think Derek does too. He's just worried about you."  
Casey said nothing for a moment.

"He doesn't want me here." She said eventually.

"Did he say that?"

"Not exactly. But Sal has known about Derek for months, yet Derek still thinks I need to leave – or he'll leave me. Why at the first sign of trouble does he want us apart?"  
Spike looked up at her with a complete look of sincerity on his face.

"We protect the things we love, even when that means we lose them. It's called love, Casey."


	11. The Date

When Spike left Casey he left her more thoughtful than ever and not just about her relationship with Derek. When she had fished around for a topic to change the subject away from her love life, Spike's earlier words suddenly hit home.

Her eyes widening, she leaned forward. "I'm sorry. Did you say that you discussed the increased threat-level with _George_?" Casey frowned. "I thought George didn't know about Sal. I mean none of us did until I started talking to Derek again."

"Oh George knows about Sal. He just doesn't know his name – or that _we_ know his name." Spike said casually. "However, he has known some of the details of what went on back then, right from the start."

"But I…" Casey started she could feel the tears coming that George had kept something from her. But then she didn't really have a right to know…did she?

Spike put his hand on hers. "Casey, it served no purpose for the entire family to be aware of what was going on. We told George because he started kicking and screaming about us finding his son's killer. He had started throwing his weight around, pulling favours left, right and centre. He was getting a bit too close for comfort. So we told him enough. We told him that it appeared Derek had walked in on something sometime and had been on his way to do the right thing and inform the authorities but that someone got to him first. We gave him a truth – a half-truth – but it was more about what we left out than what we added."

"So you gave him a lie."  
"I gave him what he needed…a heroic son. Let's face it what Derek did was heroic in his own way."

"I don't think he sees it that way."  
Spike shrugged. "I know. But it should help him to know that after his "death" the sudden publicity made it impossible for that racket to continue in Canada. They knew that we would be watching the college level sports, increasing random dope testing and so on. We might not have got Sal, but that side of his organisation faltered."

"He's building it back up though. I mean Papillion…?"

Spike nodded. "He has grown more daring. We think that the reason he's been quiet is because he has been lying low abroad. We are taking the Papillion case as a sign that he's moved back home."

"And in time, Derek will be at risk again."

"Yes. It's not "if" but more a question of "how long" it will be. Maybe one month…one year…who knows."

Casey fingered the paper napkin in front of her. "I can't leave him, Spike. And I know he thinks he can leave me, but I can't let him. It's not even a question of me not _wanting_ to let him leave. I _can't_ let him leave."

"I know Casey. But he needed to know that he had tried. We all needed to know that he had tried."

"So what's the next step?"

"Can you come in tomorrow and we will talk about how to protect you here in Ottawa. There will be restrictions on your movements and a few housekeeping rules." Casey nodded.

"And…" Spike leaned forward. "On a personal level, we talk about what you need to do to keep Derek sane."

When she returned to the hospital, Robin was waiting for her. Concerned that she was about to be reprimanded for taking her break, Casey was quick to point out that it was already three hours overdue. Her boss was equally quick to reassure her, putting a staying hand on her arm and flashing attractive eyes at her.

"Relax. I'm just here to find out when I get to take you out for that dinner I promised you."

Casey frowned, confused, because with everything that had gone on she really had forgotten about his invitation. Eventually the fog cleared.

"Oh…sorry Robin. Yes of course."

"So?" Robin prompted.

"Erm…I don't know."  
"Are you free tonight?"  
Casey looked thoughtful.

Was she free tonight? Probably. The alternative was an evening either on her own or spent avoiding Derek. Whilst she wasn't happy about the situation between them, she wasn't ready to forgive yet. She wanted some sign from Derek that he understood her point.

Or did she?

Understanding that Casey was upset because he didn't want to _be _with her was okay – provided he really _wanted_ to be with her and was just being stubborn – and that unfortunately was unlikely.

Having Derek realise that Casey cared about him like that would be excruciating if he didn't feel the same way. And she wasn't sure that he had shown any inclination, despite what her heart thought.

Or what Marti had said.

"Casey?" Robin interrupted her thoughts again.

Casey shook her head free of the Derek-fog.

"Erm…yes. Sure. Dinner would be lovely."

"Great! I'll pick you up at eight."

"What? Oh…no!" Casey realised that really wouldn't work. Robin picking her up from home would not only run the risk of Derek seeing him but also Robin seeing where she lived. He might well be her boss but she wasn't sure that advertising where she lived was a good idea especially in the current climate of fear surrounding her life. Besides, she liked how her home life was something private between her and Derek.

"Tell me where to meet you and I'll make my own way there." Casey said. This also wasn't a date and she wanted him to remember that.

Robin didn't bat an eyelid.

"I'll make a reservation and let you know." He said, lifting her hand to kiss her fingers. "I'm looking forward to it."

The Derek-devil on her shoulder broke his trident in half and stormed off.

At seven pm that night, Casey was looking at her reflection in the bedroom she shared with Derek – shared when they were talking to each other.

She had chosen a blue dress tonight: conservative, yet flattering. She had purchased it in London soon after her arrival and before her trip to Sam and Ruth's house. She had planned to wear it to Spike's house because Derek had commented that at some point they would probably get a dinner invitation. Casey was a little nervous of meeting Mrs "Spike", particularly on the arm of her step-brother.

The invitation hadn't arrived yet, but the dress would do just fine for a dinner with her own boss.

She was alone in the apartment because Derek was still working late. A text message earlier had sort to reassure her without building bridges. It said "I'll be late".

The brevity of the message was just the same tone as her own text to him when she arrived at the apartment earlier, which had stated simply, "Home". It was shorter than the normal text messages which would read more along the lines of: "I'm home. If you get your backside home before eight I'm cooking."

It had now been two full days since Casey had last spoken to Derek. She hadn't slept next to him for two nights, either. Every hour that their fight dragged on hurt, even though technically it was Casey that was perpetuating the disagreement.

In the hours since she had met with Spike the hurt preyed on her even more. Now she wanted nothing more than to be able to forgive Derek for his over-protectiveness, but she had no idea how to take the first step. Sitting down heavily on their bed, Casey sighed. She needed to do something and she needed to do it soon.

As she thought about how to go about this task, she heard the front door open and froze. Derek had said he was going to be late and yet someone was coming in the front door!

Casey reached across to her bedside table and opened the drawer.

Nestling inside was a .38 Smith and Wesson and though she hated its very presence in her life, it belonged to Casey. After the drama of Papillion, Derek had decided that Casey should be able to protect herself from firearms. He drew the line at her carrying the weapon on her person, instead relegating it to the bedside, but he made sure that she understood the gun and how to use it.

For several weeks now, Derek and Casey had spent a portion of their weekends at the department firing range. Begrudgingly, Derek had to admit, Casey was already a decent shot.

Now it appeared they were going to find out exactly how good a shot.

She lifted the gun silently from its resting place, expertly checked the chamber and removed the safety. When she first received the gun, she had held it gingerly between her finger and thumb, swinging it uselessly (and also as Derek pointed out, rather dangerously.) Her grip now, however, was sure, educated and lethal. She stood up, crossed on stocking-ed feet to a place behind the door and readied herself.

"I don't know what's more dangerous." The voice said. "Are you more likely to shoot me if I walk in unannounced or if you _know_ that it's me that's coming?"

Casey let out a breath, rolled her eyes and re-placed the safety. Then she stepped out from behind the door.

Derek was standing in the doorway.

"Ass-hole." She muttered. "I thought you were going to be late?"

Derek looked uncomfortable. "I couldn't stand the fucking silence." He said. Casey frowned. "Aren't the skeleton crew there?"

"I wasn't talking about the office." Derek said, sighing. He motioned between them. "I meant _our_ silence. There's not a lot on in the office tonight and originally I was trying to avoid talking to you, but we can't carry on this way."

Casey looked down. "We need to talk, don't we?"

"Yes. We do."

Casey turned and walked the short distance to the drawer and replaced the revolver, closing the cabinet carefully.

"Derek, I…"

"Case. I care about you. It's not about that. I caught a really tough break with this and I know I am going to regret it, but I do like this set-up. I like you being here. It's fun, it's convenient it's…"

"You _regret_ the fact that you like me living here?" Casey interrupted, unable to believe what she was hearing. "I'm "convenient"? Why? Because I'm cheaper than a maid service or a personal chef?"

"That's not what I…"

Casey was shaking her head. Nora used to call her a drama queen, and she was demonstrating exactly that right now. It was so easy to fight with Derek. At the moment, even more so, he couldn't get a word in.

She began to raise her voice. "I am insane! What the hell am I doing here? You don't see me at all, do you? You see a step-sister, a cleaner, a cook. You see someone who makes sure you have clean clothes, food on the table and that you don't trip over your own crap when you get in from work."  
"For fuck's sake! Stop putting words in my mouth. I just want…"

"Yes, well, it isn't about what you want anymore, Derek. It's about what I want. And I think I want a break, from you and from this ridiculous situation…starting right now." She grabbed her purse from the bed.

"Casey, the only ridiculous thing about this is the way you're flying off the handle. Will you just sit down and let me finish?"

Casey's eyes flashed.

"So I'm being ridiculous now? Well, I'll go and be ridiculous somewhere else. I'm going out. I've no idea if there's any food in the fridge you'll have to sort yourself out. Oh and the laundry needs doing. You can fold my stuff neatly and leave it on my bed. Don't bother putting it away. I'll probably just pack it straight from the bed."

"Pack?" Derek asked, the fear creeping to the edge of his voice. In a rather twisted way, Casey sort of liked it.

"Maybe Robin's right. Maybe I should live closer to the hospital. I'll ask him about it tonight."

"Tonight?"  
"Yes. I have a date with him. It's in a nice _French_ restaurant where you can have a conversation without it being interrupted by Dean Martin crooning away in the background." She stomped to the front door.

"Don't wait up." She called over her shoulder.

"Wait! Casey!" Derek called. He wanted to tell her not to go, to stay home and work this stupid argument out with him, but he knew the mood she was in she wouldn't hear him.

Instead he caught her arm. "How are you getting there?" He asked weakly when he succeeded in getting her to pause, his need to protect her over-riding his anger at their argument; their inability to function in a normal relationship.

"Cab. I'm walking to the main road and hailing one."

"I'll take you."

"No. You won't Derek. I've spent more than enough time in your company over the past few weeks. What I need is some decent Derek-free time. Goodnight."  
And with that she left the apartment.

Derek looked at the front door, still rattling from the way she had slammed it. _Dammit Casey!_

_I could have handled _that_ better._ Derek told himself with a groan.

Then he took out his cell and dialled a number.

"Hey Jazz. I need a favour."

"You look beautiful." Robin said standing as the waiter held Casey's chair out for her. Casey, still flustered from her dramatic exit from the apartment, smiled weakly.

"Thank you." She said quietly.

"Is everything okay?" Robin asked. _Please let it be that the moron fucked up._

Casey sighed.

"Everything is fine." She started. "Well, not "fine" exactly, but it's just Der - Mikey so that's nothing new."

"He's upset you? The guy's an idiot!" Robin said heatedly. _He's a complete moron for failing to keep this one out of my reach._

Casey shrugged and fussed with the menu and her purse.

"He's just Mikey." She said by way of explanation. _Frustrating, annoying, affectionate, caring…_

"I don't know why you put up with him. You should move out. You can't keep living with your brother forever." _That's it. Remind her that it's ridiculous for her to even contemplate dating him. It's against the law of nature; morally wrong._

Casey wondered why she didn't correct Robin. Derek was most definitely not her brother.

She shrugged again.

"I could look into hospital accommodation for you." Her boss said. "If I had a word I could get you moved up the queue. You could be out of Derek's apartment within the week." _And right on my doorstep!_

Casey looked up at the man in front of her. "It's complicated." She said, because it was. She wasn't sure she wanted to move out of the apartment, even after Derek's comments and despite her threats. Contemplating the idea was painful. She knew if she took that step, all the closeness they had built up over the past few months would disappear. Everything that she had (re)gained since Derek's re-appearance would be gone. She knew enough about their relationship to know that something like that, once discarded, would be irreplaceable.

Plus, in the cab she had replayed the little scene over and over in her head, and she wasn't too happy with the way she had behaved. She had not given Derek chance to finish what he was saying. She had just taken offence at the first thing he had said, which, given that he implied she was there for his convenience, was understandable, but all the same…

"Casey?" Robin's words pulled her back to the here and now.

"Sorry. Miles away." Casey said picking up the menu and starting to look. It was totally in French but though Casey had concentrated on her Spanish in school, she knew enough French to get by.

"So what do you think? About a hospital apartment?"  
She smiled weakly again. "I'll think about it, Robin. Okay? I've just got a lot on right now."

Robin sat back. "Okay. But I think you'd have a clearer mind if you weren't stuck kow-towing to _Mikey_." He said Derek's alter-ego's name in a mocking voice.

Casey groaned inwardly. She didn't know which irritated her more, Derek moaning to her about Robin or Robin moaning to her about Derek.

Actually she did know what was worse. It had been the never-to-be-forgotten evening where all three of them had gone out to dinner, together. That had been excruciating: all subtle jibes at each other and frosty stares, while Casey had sat in the middle feeling like a roadrunner standing between two coyotes. There was no way she could hold either of them off and could really only survive by running away as fast as she could.

The meal progressed, but whilst the restaurant was very smart and expensive, and whilst Robin tried his best to charm her, Casey's heart wasn't in it. She kept thinking back to life without Derek and the emptiness of her old apartment in London.

Robin returned to the subject of the accommodation a couple more times, offering to get her a guided tour, and even a recommendation for a place in his own block which was strictly for senior management. (Apparently he knew someone on the board.)

He flattered her with praise for her work, complimented her on the rapport she had developed with both staff and patients, and moved on to talk about management boards she should apply for.

For his help with that work aspect, Casey was grateful that she had come tonight, but otherwise her mind and heart were elsewhere.

After the dessert, she decided she couldn't torment the man in front of her with her company anymore.

"It's been lovely tonight Robin." She began. "But I don't think it's fair on you for me to stay longer. My heart's not in it. I probably need to go home and throw something at Mikey."

Robin looked disappointed and slightly annoyed. "Aw! Come on, I know a nice little place for coffee."

"I'm tired. It's been a stressful few days."  
"One coffee." He insisted. "One coffee and then I'll take you home, I promise."  
Casey sighed. He had just spent something in the region of $400 on the meal and even though she would make him drop her several streets from where she actually lived, maybe she could just go and get one cup of coffee with him.

"Okay. One coffee and then I really must go."

They left the restaurant and made their way a couple of blocks to the small independent coffee bar Robin had recommended. It was a tiny place set in a building that was much older than its surrounds. Small booths lined each wall, lit with tea-lights and a live band played softly in the corner.

Starbucks it wasn't.

Casey liked the place a lot. She ordered a plain hot chocolate rather than a coffee, and when it came she was pleased to find it wasn't made from a powder but instead from a rich chocolate cream.

"I think I might come here again." She said with a smile. "This was a nice idea, thank you."

Robin inclined his head. "Would you come here again with me?" He asked intently.

It was a leading question, but Casey, her mind still on hot chocolate and Derek, missed the signs.

"Sure." She said. "I…"

What she was going to say was swallowed immediately as her _boss_ leaned close and kissed her on the mouth. She gasped in shock and surprise, and he mis-interpreted her reaction as an invitation to stick his tongue in Casey's mouth.

Casey pushed him away with difficulty.

"What the hell was that?" She asked indignantly.

"Oh come on Casey. Surely you realised I didn't just ask you out to talk work?"

"What?" Casey spluttered.

"I made it clear I fancy you - that I was hoping we could develop this attraction into something more _physical_."

Casey's eyes widened. "What attraction? I made it quite clear that I wasn't interested in dating my boss. Besides, I _live_ with someone. What on earth gave you the idea I was interested in you like that?"

"You live with your _brother_, Casey."

"No I live with my _step_-brother and you know that. For the record, I also sleep with him. Before you say anything, it is perfectly acceptable in society."

She stood up and grabbed her purse. "Thank you for dinner, Robin, It was nice, but I think it would be best if we didn't repeat it. I'll write you a check for my half of the meal as soon as I get home and I'll make sure that your secretary has it first thing in the morning."

"This was all about your career wasn't it?" Robin shot back at her. "You led me on to get better promotion chances."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer." Casey said her face screwing up as though something distasteful was in her mouth. "Just try repeating that at work, Robin. I'm not the one who invited the new girl out for a $400 dinner to discuss her "career" options. Maybe a few of your "committees" might like to hear about that."

Casey squeezed her way out of the booth and made for the door. She needed to get out before the tears started to fall, but she had no idea where she was going.

In her hurry to leave, she didn't notice the person standing just outside the door of the coffee bar and she ploughed into them.

"Oops!" apologised Casey without looking up.

"S'ok, Case. I got you." A familiar voice said.

Casey looked up and seeing Jazz's understanding face burst into tears and fell into his arms.

"I'm sorry if I ruined your evening." Casey said when she finally stopped crying. By now they were in Jazz's car and the streets were flying past as he drove her home.

"You mean my evening tailing you?" He asked with a smile.

Casey looked confused so Jazz explained.

"I was there because you were." He said.

She frowned. "Because of Spike?"

Jazz shook his head.

"Just because you're arguing right now doesn't mean _he_ doesn't care about you…a lot."

"Derek." Casey said with certainty.

Jazz nodded. "He wasn't trying to interfere when he suggested he took you to the restaurant. He was trying to protect you. When you stormed off, he called me because he knew you were on your own. Fortunately, I wasn't far away and I saw you get in the cab."

"Oh. I forgot about the whole Sal-thing." She didn't mean to sound like an air-head, but she honestly had forgotten about exactly what they were arguing about.

"Sal's a dangerous person to forget about, Casey."  
"I know. I'm sorry." She said.

After a moment's pause, Casey turned to Jazz again. "Do you think I should go back to London?"

Jazz snorted. "Are you fucking kidding me? And leave me to deal with a pre-menstrual Venturi? Oh no, Babe. You're staying exactly where you are. Since you've been on the scene, he's become bearable."  
"I thought he was one of your closest friends." Casey pointed out, frowning.

"Doesn't mean the guy doesn't piss me off on a daily basis." Jazz explained. Casey chuckled.

"You and me both." And they laughed together.

"Look. It's none of my business or anything, but do you think you two could hurry it up with the making up? Only he's back to being a pain in the ass and it's only so long before one of us smacks the other in the kisser. Is it so bad that he wants to protect you?"

Casey took a deep breath. "I have no problem with protection. I just don't want him to push me away in the mistaken belief it makes me safer."

"You know, if you two stopped fighting each other and started fighting the bad guy, you'd be one hell of a team."

"Where's Derek?" Casey asked as she let her and Jazz into the apartment.

"Gone to clear his head apparently."

They looked at each other and chorused. "In a bar."

Jazz chuckled. "Actually I don't know where he is. I'll call him when I leave here. Are you going to be okay?"  
Casey nodded. "I'm going to take a long soak in the bath and get an early night." She said. "No more fighting tonight."

Jazz smiled. "In that case, do yourself a favour…don't tell Derek about Robin and what happened.."

She shivered. "OOOooo definitely not."

"Well I'd best be off." Jazz said.

"Thanks. For everything. For bringing me home, for giving me a good pep talk and for being Derek's best friend."  
"I think that's more in your job description, but thanks for the compliment, Casey." He paused at the front door. "Cut him some slack okay. Derek's not big on romance and us guys when we fall it's a bit like those clowns in the circus, you know…comical, noisy and rather messy."  
Casey laughed. "Fall?" She said narrowing her eyes.

"In love."

Casey lost the laughter immediately. "Whose Derek in love with?" She said, suddenly finding air in short supply.

"You, honey. Only you."

Casey closed the door behind Jazz with a heavy heart. Much as she liked Derek's friend, and he had been so helpful to her tonight, she knew he was mistaken. Guys like Derek don't fall in love easily and they certainly don't fall in love with high maintenance girls like Casey – no matter how much she wished it was so.

She locked the front door, but not so that Derek couldn't get in, checked the doors to the balcony and that everything was off in the kitchen, and then she ran a bath.

The warm water was soothing to muscles tense with emotion. She cleaned the streaked make-up from her skin and allowed herself to sink quietly beneath a cloud of bubbles. Heaven.

When Casey emerged from the bathroom, she felt like a different person: not only clean and fragrant, but also relaxed and calm. She made her way to Derek's bedroom and dressed in one of her favourite satin nightdresses. She was going to be more forgiving. she was going to avoid the arguments. She was going to make her peace with Derek.

The trouble was he was in a bar, no doubt getting drunk and in all probability, getting friendly with an attractive blonde in the corner. Pushing down a spike of jealousy, Casey told herself that was just Derek and she had to accept it. The problem between them was not jealousy but one of miscommunication. They always seemed to start off on the wrong foot; one would open their mouth and say something obnoxious before the other even noticed the fact they were speaking. What they needed was communication without speech: A conciliatory action.

Casey walked in at the open door to the spare room – the room she had been sleeping in. She could see in the half-life the air mattress she had slept on the previous two nights. It wasn't particularly comfortable but at the time it had served its purpose.

She knew that purpose had gone.

Casey turned around and walked back to Derek's bedroom.

Derek wasn't in a bar and he most definitely wasn't with someone else. He was sitting in his car in his favourite part of Ottawa watching the lights of the city against the dark night sky. Before Casey came back into his life he spent long hours in the peaceful spot, nestled between a disused warehouse and the flood plain. He came here to think. Here where the lights sparkled and the world looked so small, he could almost believe in magic.

He was sick of fighting with Casey. Hell he'd probably fought more with her than he ever had with everyone else put together; which was ironic considering how he felt about her. Life for the past few months had been almost perfect and he had known it couldn't last. Deep down he knew the disintegration of their relationship was his own fault, but he couldn't bring himself to pretend that he wouldn't behave the same way if it happened again. You do everything to protect the people you love…don't you?

So what did he do now? He'd been sitting here since she left to go on her date and he still wasn't any clearer as to how the whole shit storm was going to go. He'd had advice from almost every quarter but the one that counted.

He couldn't ask Casey how to deal with Casey or how to change the world so that he got what he wanted.

He groaned and banged his head against his headrest. _Amazing, beautiful, intelligent, warm insane female!_

Derek's phone vibrated and he pulled it from his pocket to read the text.

**She's home. She's safe. And you my friend are a lucky fucking sod. Stop drowning your sorrows and go home to your woman before she stops seeing the good in you.**

**She needs you Derek. Be honest and need her.**

**Jazz**

**P.S. I'll get in early in case you need me to cover your shift. *wink***


	12. The Communion

**AN: Serving Suggestion:**

**Best served at evening time when kids/dogs/cats/parents/annoying siblings are safely tucked up and you have no distractions. For best results, you might like to turn out the light. Either way, take your time over it.**

* * *

Derek hesitated before he let himself into the apartment. He had driven home fairly quickly but now that he was in the building there was a sort of reluctance which swept over him. It wasn't that he didn't want to be home, or see Casey, he just wondered if he had been wrong to get his hopes up that they could stop fighting this time. Could tonight be when they started talking to each other again?

He didn't want much, just to see her look at him with a smile rather than a grimace; for her to laugh at his irritatingly annoying jokes; to know that she even wanted to be in the same room as him.

He took a deep breath and turned his key in the lock, pushing the door open and stepped into his apartment.

Their home was quiet, still and as he looked at his watch, Derek realised with surprise that it was late enough that Casey was probably in bed. Afterall, Jazz had said she was definitely at home and it was immediately clear from the darkness and the silence that she wasn't in the living room.

With that realisation went a small part of Derek's hope that tonight would be okay. Clearly, Casey didn't _want_ to talk because she hadn't stayed up for him. He glanced quickly into the living room anyway just to make sure she wasn't sitting there in the dark or something else, equally Casey-like.

It was empty.

Not quite giving up, Derek crossed quietly to the spare room and looked for a glimmer of light (and hope) below the closed door. Maybe she was in bed reading or something, waiting for the sound of his key in the lock?

He saw nothing.

Sighing, he let his fingers brush softly over the door frame as he bowed his head in disappointment and turned towards his own room.

Perhaps it was for the best. They were both tired and they were both emotional tonight. He pulled a wry face at the thought of himself having emotions, remembering how much he had hated the idea when he was a teenager.

But he'd lived two lives since then, and he was contemplating a third. He knew what it meant to lose something you care about; he knew loss, he knew sorrow and he knew anger. Most of all, thanks to Casey and his family, he knew love.

Continuing his journey to his bedroom, Derek passed the coat closet and noticed a piece of material sticking out. One of Casey's jackets had become caught in the hinge. He opened the closet, smoothed the fabric away from the gap and closed the closet again. It was funny how things out of place irritated him now; just another one of the myriad ways that Casey had impacted him. She had him picking up after himself, washing the plates as soon as he had finished eating and even – though he'd never admit to it in public – squirting a jet of bleach into the toilet bowl last thing at night! (It was a long story: Casey thought Derek had "missed the pan", he was convinced he hadn't. Cue: withdrawal of cooking provision. Now he bleached the toilet last thing at night so he didn't get accused again.)

Her angry comments about him earlier had rankled, because he _did_ do stuff around the place. He did the laundry sometimes, admittedly not as often as Casey, but he tried. Take tonight for example, when she had stormed off Derek had been left to his own devices. What had he done before he left to stargaze? He had emptied the dishwasher, changed the linen on the bed and even changed the towels in the bathroom after his evening shower!

And guilt that it had been a week since he had done any of those things before tonight played only a small part in his drive to do them. Keep Casey happy by following her domestic rules and then she didn't pull away from you. She didn't object when you muscled in on her personal space while she was watching a movie. She let you blow raspberries on her neck in bed at night with a giggle rather than an elbow to the ribs. Treating Casey with respect brought its own rewards and they may not be worth much in monetary terms, but they were priceless to Derek.

* * *

Derek's bedroom door was closed when he reached it and he turned the handle quietly so as not to wake Casey as she slept in the room down the hall. The door opened without a sound and Derek stepped quickly into the room, already tugging his t-shirt over his head, ready to discard his clothes, clean his teeth and hit the sack.

The fabric over his face hid the bed from his eyes, but he could tell something was up when he could see light through the weave of the shirt in what should be a darkened room. He pulled the shirt roughly from his head in a hurry because he hated the unexpected and he hated being vulnerable.

What he saw made him relax.

The room was bathed in a soft light from a solitary lamp.

Casey and Derek always did this. They both knew that coming home from a late shift to a darkened apartment sucked. So if the one who got home first knew the other would be home soon, they would leave a light for them – the lamp on the empty side of the bed. It had a low wattage bulb of the kind designed for children to allay their fears of the dark. It was equally useful when you were creeping in after working late.

Another reason it wasn't bright was because the light was an adjustable one and it was on its lowest setting, but it was enough for him to see the bed; to see the rumpled covers where they should be newly-stretched and tucked in from his earlier housewifery.

The sight before him was a comfortingly familiar one, but one he hadn't seen for several days.

It was the sight of Casey asleep in their bed.

Derek stopped. His urgency for getting ready for bed and going to sleep had left and all he wanted to do now was stare.

If Casey had been awake, she would have found it hard to pull her eyes from Derek too. His gun holster and t-shirt were in his hand leaving him bare-chested and his black jeans hugged his hips in just the right way. Casey had seen Derek naked and she knew he worked out because they went to the department gym together every weekend after their sessions on the firing range. She knew he had a toned but not excessively muscular body and she had seen him in much less than he was wearing tonight.

But if she had been awake, she would have noted that sometimes covering something up makes it more tantalising than putting it on display. Derek's lower body encased in a perfect pair of jeans was a case in point.

Casey, however, wasn't awake. She was an elongated lump under the comforter, her long hair spilling around her face and over the bare shoulder which peeked from the covers.

At first Derek was confused because it looked as though she was naked, but then he saw the soft peach satin strap of her new nightgown resting against her skin. He knew the garment in question. He had seen it among the purchases which Casey had bought in London during this last trip. It had lain in one of those large, stiff and waxed paper carriers only the most expensive lingerie shops provide. The bag, broad white-and-peppermint-green stripes had matching peppermint green cord for handles and white tissue paper poked from its interior.

In his boredom, confined to Casey's room while the rest of the family tucked into his favourite Casey food, Derek had explored Casey's purchases. (So what? He's a guy and the bag said "Lingerie".)

He remembered this peach satin gown. He didn't know that it was based on a traditional forties style: ankle-length with two, inch-wide straps which sat on the shoulders, a small fat satin bow decorating the point where each of the straps met the rest of the gown. Derek didn't have an eye for the origins of fashion styles. But he could tell that its bias-cut meant that it would cling in some very interesting places and when he had touched the soft fabric in that bag that night in London he had realised Casey was planning to wear it in bed – and there was a very real possibility she was planning to wear it in _their_ bed and when he was there.

At the time, the thought had made him raise his eyebrow and take a deep breath, which had eventually succeeded in clearing his mind and calming him down. Derek had then rolled his eyes, reminded himself that they wouldn't be sharing a bed much longer because he was going to persuade Casey to stay in London – and that Casey only ever wore pjs around him.

But she was wearing the nightgown now.

Time passed while he stood and stared, but eventually Derek dragged himself away from what was a possibly his favourite image of Casey – that of her smiling in her sleep – and hauled himself off into the bathroom to clean his teeth. Once inside he took time to talk to the mirror about what a sleazebag he was with his new voyeuristic tendencies. He also debated with himself as to whether he should tell Casey to ditch the satin and buy herself some new granddad pyjamas preferably with a high neck.

Chuckling to himself, he finished his ablutions, brushed his hair roughly, and switching off the light, left the en-suite.

Casey was still asleep.

After he'd changed into his pyjama bottoms, deciding against wearing a t-shirt because it was warm in the bedroom, Derek toyed with the idea of removing the bullets from Casey's gun before he climbed into bed. Her reasons for returning to their bed somewhat unclear, he was worried that she might think he was trying something on.

In the end, however, he reasoned if she was determined to hurt him, she'd brain him with the gun butt while he slept anyway; besides, she'd voted with her feet tonight and they had been sharing a bed for months now. Casey knew he could behave himself.

In fact nothing had changed really. They had just had a big argument. People argue all the time. They just needed to apologise to each other, clear the air and return to normal; a normality which would finally silence all those "critics" who said there was more going on between them than there was. Casey was just his best friend.

Even if inside Derek knew there was no "just" about it. She was so much more than that and…

Derek caught himself before he went off down that thought process again. He'd spent most of the evening thinking "what ifs". Now it was time to just get into bed, kiss Casey goodnight, turn over and go to sleep.

He held his breath as he slid between the sheets, not wanting to disturb her. But when his head was laying on the freshly laundered pillow beside her the need to touch her, to hold her, was too great.

Derek rolled onto his side. He could smell the fresh clean scent of her favourite shampoo, warm and inviting, mixing with the other familiar scent of her favourite bath oil. The two scents were complementary to each other and combined were so essentially "Casey" that he found himself breathing in deep lungfuls of air – through his nose. Derek lifted his hand and curled it carefully around Casey's waist, his eyes closing at the softness of the satin nightgown under _his_ skin and the warmth it had absorbed from hers. He shuffled his body closer to her back and tightened his grip.

"I'm sorry." He whispered to her exposed ear.

"Hmmm, so am I." She replied sleepily, causing Derek to jump and pull back slightly.

"You're awake?"

"Not really. I woke when you spoke. I've been asleep a while but I guess my sleep wasn't that deep." She said, turning onto her other side so that she could see him. Their bodies were close again. He could feel the edges of the satin from her gown brushing his legs and the warmth of her presence where his own body was cooler from being outside of the bed.

But Derek couldn't look at anything except Casey's eyes, and it seemed she was locked into the moment too. Neither of them could break away.

"Casey…I," He started but was silenced by the unexpected sensation of her finger against his lips.

"Don't." She whispered. "I don't want to argue tonight. Tomorrow maybe, when the sun's up and I'm feeling stronger."

"Or not at all." Derek murmured against the finger still resting on his lips.

He broke the gaze and leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers and they both closed their eyes.

For a moment, they lay there, Derek's arm around Casey's satin middle, their foreheads touching and their eyes closed. Once again Casey's unique scent wove its way into Derek's senses and over-powered him. He felt Casey breathe in against his chest, not knowing that she too was memorising his scent, a combination right now of his own shower product, the slight musky "Derek" tone she knew and had missed so much, and minty toothpaste.

Casey smiled and unable to avoid the temptation after a couple of days' abstinence, she lifted her mouth to his and pressed her lips to Derek's just once.

"I missed you." She sighed.

Derek pecked his own kiss against her lips. "I missed you too." He sighed in return.

He nuzzled his head into the small space between the pillow and her neck. His hair tickled and his nose rubbed against her cheek causing Casey to giggle softly, which only served to encourage him. Derek traced a path with the tip of his nose along her skin as far as he could go towards her ear.

Casey turned her head to accommodate him and out of sight, Derek smiled.

The loose-slung arm on her waist became a hand on her hip as he eased Casey onto her back. Once again, he let his nose trace the route, switching to pay the same attention to her other ear and its proximity. With her new position he could reach comfortably under her chin.

Casey drew in a breath and Derek lifted his head and grinned, liking his new game.

"Does it tickle, yet?"  
Casey looked away, a blush forming on her cheeks. Derek's touch was causing sensations, but tickling wasn't one of them. As a rule, she liked the feel of his skin on hers; that wasn't a new development. They often held hands and his fingers stroked hers, and he had tickled her at the waist before where her tops rose to leave a gap.

This level of touching was different though. It still wasn't overtly sexual but to Casey, given that Derek was someone she had to admit to occasionally considering in that way…

Derek's grin sobered slightly and he ducked his head again, nose running a trail from her chin down to her collarbone. Casey shivered as the trail led back up to her ear and she realised that his nose had retreated and in its place Derek's lips made the journey.

_Not sexual._ Casey reminded herself. _He's teasing._

The lips, passive till now began to leave tiny kisses as they moved along the contours of her jaw-line.

It was all Derek could do not to moan. What had started out as an affectionate gesture he had twisted into a "let's tickle Casey" game which had now back-fired on him. Running his nose along her skin had heightened his awareness of her to the point where pulling away from Casey was impossible. It was more than just her scent now, she was a magnet and he, a useless flake of metal, was being dragged in by her force-field. Before he knew where he was, he had changed the angle of his caress and his lips were on her skin; motionless except for the way they were trailing the route from her ear to her collarbone. And then he crossed the first line and let his lips form a kiss, tiny and fluttering. Then another and another until there was no trail, just a series of kisses and an overwhelming desire to moan close to her ear.

But he didn't.

Derek took a deep breath which Casey matched and he lifted his face to look at her.

They watched each other carefully, their hearts pounding as they lay so close beside each other, Casey on her back, Derek on his side pressed up against her, his hand still resting on the gown at her hip. For a moment, there wasn't even a millimetre of their skin touching – and after the rawness of the past few minutes' game, they both noticed the absence of touch.

They said nothing. Mouthed nothing. Indicated nothing.

And then simultaneously they slowly closed the gap and kissed.

Derek and Casey both gasped at the touch and the press of their lips became a proper kiss, open-mouthed – open-souled. Even though they did not invade each other's mouths, the kiss was deep, prolonged and like nothing they had ever shared before.

They broke apart and then kissed again and this time their bodies shifted. Derek raised his other hand to hold Casey's other hip, his body now leaning over hers.

Casey grabbed for Derek's waist. Her hand touched the bare skin of his muscled back and she closed her eyes and groaned softly against his mouth, her fingers curling as they dragged gently across his skin. Derek gasped a breath and his mouth found a renewed hunger for hers, his tongue pushed forward and she didn't deny it.

For a few seconds the only fighting going on was their fight for air and then Casey raised her hands to his hair, slipping curious fingers into the tangle as she had wanted to for so long.

Choosing a moment when they were both almost out of breath, Derek shifted his body slightly and covered Casey's. Casey could finally feel the weight of him on her legs.

The kiss broke and their eyes met cautiously again.

_Are we crazy?_ Casey's eyes asked.

_Yes. So what?_ Derek's eyes replied and she saw a ghost of humour; not enough to ruin the moment, but enough to remind her of the man she had fallen in love with.

Casey closed her eyes as Derek began to kiss her neck, and slide his hands up her sides. She tried so hard to suppress the shiver which his actions provoked; not a shiver of fear, but one of pleasure. Derek murmured something against her skin and though she didn't catch the words she sensed the tone. It was reassuring, calming but most of all it was loving. She combed her exploratory fingers through his hair, massaging a path to the back of his neck where she kneaded the tired muscles. Derek groaned in delight and Casey stopped, hooked a finger under his chin and lifted his face from where he was still kissing her neck. Their mouths met again, Derek's body pressed down on hers and all thought went out of the window.

As if to confirm that _this_ was different, progressive, and definitely sexual, as he kissed her Derek stroked a thumb over a satin-covered nipple. Casey gasped in pleasure, her need for him as obvious to the both of them as his need for her was obvious in the hardness pressing against her leg.

Derek flicked his eyes up to hers.

_Ok?_

And he felt rather than saw the slight upturn of her mouth. In added confirmation, she dropped her hands to the small of his back and pulled their bodies almost impossibly closer together.

There was only one way their bodies would achieve that desired closeness…and it was too soon.

When the need to breathe returned, Casey inwardly cursed it, necessitating as it did the withdrawal of Derek's mouth from hers, even if his thumb was still circling patterns on her breast.

And then he stopped completely.

_No!_ Casey's mind shrieked. _Don't you dare stop! If you stop I'll start thinking and I don't want to think until there is more to think about…I think._

_Oh hell! _ She cursed to herself, and then…

_Oh…!_

The second mental "Oh!" came from her realisation that he had hooked his finger under the strap of her nightgown and encouraged it to fall from her shoulder exposing the top of her breast. It didn't completely reveal all and Casey considered getting frustrated about this until she noticed Derek reaching up to grip the satin strap in his teeth and pull it lower down her arm. It was an action she would have rewarded with a kiss, deep and…well…rewarding, but Derek had other ideas for his mouth and Casey wasn't about to argue with him as he began to kiss the newly revealed area.

Derek meanwhile had completely lost his mind…or at least that was what he was quietly telling himself. He knew that these weren't his actions alone, Casey was playing a very active role, but right now at this minute he was in the driving seat. Common sense told him he should probably stop and get out of the car, but this was Casey whose breast he was currently kissing and as usual with Casey he had no idea how to leave well alone.

Tonight wasn't the first time he thought he had lost her. There had been so many times before. Some were emotional loss, some were physical "separated by death" loss. Each was excruciating. But right now she was in his arms – correction lying under his body. She wasn't beating the crap out of him for touching her this way or for getting visibly aroused by her. Instead, Casey was sighing cute little sighs, moaning hot little moans and shivering at _his_ touch.

Derek was a nice guy and all that, but he wasn't a fucking saint.

Besides, he loved her and right now he could almost believe she loved him. It felt right, and he wasn't going to stop until she told him to…which was inevitable. But in the meantime he was going to love her…with every inch of his body.

He hid a smile at that one.

Casey went back to stroking the back of his neck as he kissed her breast and when he took the nipple in his mouth she dug her fingernails into the muscle at his shoulder blades. Derek glanced up to see if he had done something wrong, but the look on her face told him otherwise. He brushed the tip of his tongue against the tip of her breast once and then released it to go play with the other one.

Casey watched him.

Derek pulled himself up to kiss her again. It was still deep and full of emotion but the fire between them was like a burner being switched on: first it roars and rages consuming more than it gives back in warmth, and then you turn it down to a glowing heat which burns steadily, rhymically making you sweat but also making you feel safe, comfortable, home. Derek longed for that sense of home.

Still mid-intense kiss, Casey pushed at Derek until they were sitting up facing each other, their legs entwined and their bodies close. Casey broke the kiss and Derek frowned, but Casey smiled. To his amazement, she shuffled around and then grabbed the hem of her gown and pulled it up over her head.

Okay, maybe Derek wasn't in the driving seat any longer!

There was a question in her eyes when she turned back to him. An uncertainty as if she was worried that she had overstepped the mark. Derek wanted to tell her that the mark was so blurred by now it was part of the general grey of its surroundings to the point where no one could tell the line had ever been there.

Actually, no. What he wanted to tell her was that she owned him, completely and utterly – and not just because she was sitting in front of him totally naked.

Instead, he reached a finger to her collarbone and began to trace patterns the way he had done with his lips. He revisited all his favourite stops on his little journey, switching once again to his thumb when he reached her breast. This time as his kissed and licked, he lingered. Casey leaned forward so that her head was bowed over his and ran her own finger over the muscles on his back.

For a moment or two Derek twisted his head up to kiss her mouth and then returned to her breasts.

Until this point, Derek had been under the impression that he knew how this would end. They would get so far, Casey would back away and…he was trying really hard not to think about the consequences of tonight.

The first he realised that things weren't going to go like that was when Casey's hand rested on one of his thighs and slowly travelled upwards. He pulled back in shock.

Casey's eyes widened.

"I'm…I'm sorry." She blurted. "I'll stop."

"No." Derek said suddenly breathless and he caught her hand. "Don't stop." He climbed off the bed, removed his pyjama pants and then resumed his position.

Casey returned her hand to his leg and began a (painfully) slow journey towards…

…towards what? The nirvana? Towards sex with Derek?

Towards the place where she could give as much pleasure to him as he was giving to her.

Derek paused and closed his eyes as she touched him. It appeared Casey had a talented thumb too Derek decided as she brushed his tip. He was curious, though in no hurry to ask, how if Casey had only had sex once before, how did she know to do th…?

He moaned. Right now he didn't care.

Kissing her mouth with a darker passion still, Derek let his own hand drop to the hallowed place between Casey's legs.

Several moments later, Casey pulled gently away from his mouth.

"I don't have…" She started.

"I do." Derek said. Clearly their "communion" with each other engendered telepathic abilities. He reached across to his drawer and paused. He sat upright again.

"Look at me honey." He said firmly.

Casey raised her eyes and met his.

"What's the matter, Derek?" she asked, beginning to panic that he was stopping this…whatever.

He smiled and brushed a thumb across her cheek.

"Thank you." He said. "I just wanted to make sure we both knew who we were about to …" his voice trailed away as he caught a glimpse of the heat in her eyes.

_Fuck!_ He thought to himself and, unable to wait any longer, he pulled the first foil packet he came across from the drawer.

Casey lay back, watching him as he prepared himself. She felt curiously calm, as though she was pleasantly drunk. But she wasn't. What alcohol she had drunk at dinner had now gone, chased away by the heady intoxication that was Derek.

He leaned over her.

"Sure?" he asked.

"Stop talking Derek." She ordered, and pulled him to her for a kiss.

Derek closed his eyes as they let the kiss consume them. He kept them closed while he made sure she was ready.

And then, as gently and as lovingly as he could, he poured every ouch of love and affection and sheer need he had into his kiss and his embrace.

And Derek began to make love to Casey.


	13. Tomorrow

Casey opened her eyes and her heart stopped.

The room she was in was monochrome, cold as the deep freeze and the pictures on the wall told her she was back in London. Wanting to have her fears disproved she edged backwards in the bed, hoping to find reassuring warmth and comfort; to find Derek.

When she met nothing only more cold bed-linen she turned over reluctantly and looked at the empty space behind her. The emptiness of her situation pressed into her like the compacting walls of some horror movie: A movie about life without Derek; without the man she believed she had just made love to; without the man she could admit now that she loved.

Casey began to shake and new tears of grief began to trail down her cheeks.

Desperate to find some trace of Derek alive, she threw back the covers and stepped out of the bed and the cold immediately hit her. Frowning she looked down at herself, and saw only goose-pimpled flesh where she was expecting pyjama pants.

She was naked.

Casey was confused. She never slept naked – not even on the hottest day of the year when the air con was broken. She always wore something, even if it was a slip and panties. After all what if there was a fire? What if she lost consciousness and had to be removed from the apartment over a fireman's shoulder, carried down the ladder for the entire street to see?

The sensation of air on skin made her gasp.

_Not Real?_ Her mind queried. _ Derek wasn't real?_

What about the last "memory" she had of him; of his body leaving hers, but not going far. Of the way he lay beside her post-coital and the sense of loss she felt at the tiny distance, even though he pulled her close, held her tightly, and kissed her neck softly muttering "_You're everything, Casey". _

She was everything? Well so was he. He was her strength and her support and at the suddenness of his absence, Casey collapsed to the floor, her body a sad, cold weeping mess.

_Not Real._

She glanced around the room, seeing all her things lining the walls. Her bookcase was full of books she thought she had taken to Ottawa. The rug on which she was sitting was currently beside their bed in Ottawa…wasn't it? In London, on the floor, Casey buried her head in her knees. Her naked toes clawed at the fibres of the rug as her sobbing racked her whole frame.

_Not Real_.

Could she really have lost him again? Was the whole of the last four months nothing but a fantastic dream turned into a sick nightmare? Had that bullet taken him from her for real the way she had first thought? Would she never feel his lips on her skin and his fingers on her naked body? Had she really made up the joyous, ecstatic home-coming sensation of Derek's body connected to her own?

_Not Real. Not Real! NOT REAL!_

The voice inside her head got louder and louder. And as her mind reminded Casey of more amazing memories of the past four months; of what it was like to be loved by Derek – to lose Derek all over again, Casey's crying got louder.

_It's not real!_ The voice insisted.

_But it looks it._ She replied into the space where her head was buried in her knees.

_Sweetheart, you're having a nightmare. Whatever it is it _isn't_ real!_

Casey frowned. "Sweetheart?" She queried, wondering since when dis-embodied figments of your imagination suddenly started addressing you in such a familiar way.

A warm arm curled around her waist on the bed and Casey started as she realised her position had completely changed.

"I can come up with a different term of endearment if you like. How about "Snuggle bunny"?"

Casey turned in bed. "You call me that and I'll never sleep with you again." But she was smiling with relief. She was still naked and slightly cold, but she was _in_ bed, in a room filled with colour and the space beside her was far from empty.

Derek laughed. "Fine. But I think Mac the Quack isn't appropriate anymore. Unless you want to bring your scrubs into the bedroom." His thumb and indicator finger made an "V" against his chin. "Hmm role play…"

"Der-ek!" She mock-smacked at him. "You always have to lower the tone, don't you?"

"If it makes you smile after a bad dream…yeah." He said pointedly. Casey sighed.

"Sorry."

"Stop the press! One of us just apologised to the other! The world must end right now!" He joked, determined to see the worry disappear from her face. The sight of Casey trembling in his arms, sobbing had been heart-rending.

Casey smacked at him. "Are you always this chirpy after sex?"

"Are you always this violent?" He said laughing, catching her wrist and wincing at the same time.

"Only with you." She grinned sweetly. Derek leaned forward and kissed her. For a moment, Casey forgot her own name.

They pulled their mouths apart reluctantly only when the need to breathe got too much. Derek brushed a thumb over her cheek.

He frowned. "What was it about? The nightmare I mean."

Casey shook her head. "Nothing."  
"Casey…" Derek warned. "Don't shut me out."  
"It's not that. I just think your ego might inflate to the point where there isn't room for me in this bed."

Derek snorted. "Honey, there's always room for you in this bed."

Casey rolled her eyes. "You're predictable, Venturi."

He curled an eyebrow. "Really? What am I thinking now?"  
"No…Derek. I'm tired." She guessed.

Derek laughed, somewhat uncomfortable at the accuracy of her guess. "Now who's the one with the massive ego?" He chuckled pulling her on top of him because he was an optimist. "Tell me what the nightmare was about or I start tickling."

Casey rested her elbows on his chest. "Is that supposed to scare me? Only I have to say right now…you're more Crusty the clown than Chucky."

"Hey! Crusty's scary as fuck! He has green hair and smokes a cigar…and has an unhealthy interest in kids."

Casey said nothing, she just looked at him while she waited for him to realise what he'd just said.

"I mean…" he stammered.

She grinned. "You're as incompetent as me when it comes to witty comebacks."

Derek stroked a finger against her collarbone. "Actually I thought we were both rather good at it."  
Casey raised an eyebrow. "Are we still talking about humour?"

Derek smirked. "No."

"Der-ek!"

He chuckled. "Your anger is curiously alluring."

"Fuck off!"

"I'm trying." He promised suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. Casey rolled her eyes and Derek started to comb his fingers through her hair. "So how come you haven't freaked out yet? We had sex."  
Casey's eyes widened dramatically. "We did? Wow! I must have slept through it! Was it good?"

"Hey! I'm going to take offence at that!" Derek said. "You could not have slept through such an amazing experience. He rolled them over so that his body was once again pressed on hers. It was a pointed reminder of their activities of two hours ago. Casey felt his renewed arousal with a sigh; very _pointed_ reminder. She bit her bottom lip and tried to ignore the interest her body was screaming at her. Derek had been right. She could never have slept through that. They were very good at sex together. Inexperienced though Casey was, being intimate with Derek was second nature: A very passionate second nature.

Derek looked down at her. "The nightmare?" He questioned. Casey sighed.

"The usual."

He frowned. "That this is all a dream?" He asked.

Casey often had nightmares about the reality of their new life. She had woken him crying in her sleep more times than he could remember. But most of the time all it took was an arm around her waist and soft words in her ear for her to turn and return to sleep.

Tonight had been different. Tonight had been more dramatic. She had thrashed around in the bed beside him. She had screeched his name. And her sobs had torn a hole right through him.

He wanted Casey to be happy, especially tonight. He didn't want her to be in pain; to him, tonight signalled the start of a new beginning for them. He expected her to be cautious, hell he even expected her to freak out but Derek knew how to talk her out of that. He didn't want her sub-conscious to start weighing in, putting nightmares in the way of their happiness – her happiness.

"I'm here." He said and kissed her neck. "I'll always be here."

Casey's eyes widened, her jaw set and she sat up suddenly, violently dislodging his body from where it covered hers. She pulled her knees into her chest and turned her back to him.

"But you won't be…will you? That's the whole point!" She snapped.

"Casey…" Derek warned but she wouldn't let him finish.

"You can couch it in words of seduction all you like Derek, but leaving me for my own safety is still leaving me."

Derek took a deep breath, because he knew she was right. How could he say that she was important to him and then say he wasn't prepared to have her around him? Spike had talked to him about it, Jazz had talked to him about it, but mostly, he had listened to his own conscience – his own common sense. He couldn't live without the woman in front of him, so how could he trust anyone other than himself to look after her?

Her back still faced him, but the idea of speaking the words he knew he had to speak was still daunting. He'd spoken them before to someone else– but it had been a different situation and whilst he had meant the words at the time, he knew now that this sensation was completely different. This time when he said it he meant it with every single part of him: his heart, his mind and his body.

Derek leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Casey's naked shoulder.

"I'm not leaving." He said softly. "I'm not leaving you and you as sure as fuck aren't leaving me." He continued the small kisses on flawless skin. "I panicked." He said. "I didn't think. I didn't have the opinion that counted – your opinion. But I do now."

Derek slipped his arms around her waist from behind.

"You need to understand something before you make a decision about our future." He said, brushing her hair to one side and kissing just behind her ear. "Because it is _our_ future, not just yours."

Casey turned around, giving him the benefit of the doubt, yes, but also desperate to hear him say something that would justify the trust she was so keen to place in him.

"Go on." She said looking up at him like a small child.

He smiled and took both her hands in his.

"I want to protect you." He said. "I want to behave like a caveman, brand you like a tyrant, I want to label you as mine." He paused. "But I also want to care for you. I want you to care for me. I want us to have a future yet I know that you can't give us a future if I don't give you some freedom. The decision is yours, Casey because much as I know what I _should_ do, I also know what I _want_ to do. I should push you away but I want you near by. So you make the choice." He sighed. "But before you do, you need to know something."

"Oh?"  
Derek closed his eyes. "I'm not fucking around with this, McDonald. This isn't some stupid fling where I stick up two fingers to convention. I'm not doing this because sleeping with my step-sister makes me badass."

"I never said…"

"No. I know. But you need to know…" He stopped. "Shit!"

Casey moved closer to him and put a hand on his arm.

"Just say it, Derek. I won't hate you for it."

He looked at her as though she was speaking a foreign language and then he chuckled.

"No I guess you won't." He mumbled something about Prince _fucking_ Charming and pity being worse than hate.

Casey smiled. "Believe it or not, Derek, you were hardly the person I thought of when I pictured Prince Charming…and by the way, your language sucks."

He looked at her. "I still love you though. Fairy tale or not."

Casey froze her heart pounding.

"You love me?" She asked in disbelief.

He shrugged. "Seriously. You think I'd let you screw with my apartment, my routine, my life if I wasn't in love with you?"  
"Oh."  
"It's okay if you don't feel the same yet… I just wanted the chance to try and build that with you."

Casey said nothing. She picked at the bed clothes beneath her.

"You never cease to amaze me." She said softly. "You're the most irritating man on the planet. You shake up my world in ways I never believed possible. You make me be someone I never dreamed I could be." She looked up. "And yet, I've lived a life with out you and I can't ever do that again. God only knows when it happened, but somewhere along the line I fell in love with you too." She admitted. "The only future I have is with you."

Derek wordlessly pulled himself back in the bed to rest against the head board and then he held a hand out to Casey. She took it and crawled forward to sit between his legs.

"We're going to argue, constantly." She pointed out.

"I know. But there's always the making up." Derek commented wrapping his arms around her and kissing her shoulder.

"One day we may have to tell our parents." Casey pointed out.

"Serves them right for springing their marriage on us." He murmured into her skin.  
"Ed and Lizzie might be upset."  
Derek laughed. "One of them will be. The other will be glad they won the bet."

"Marti will be surprised."  
"You don't know our little sister very well…but I do wonder what Sam would say."  
Casey looked back at him. "You might want to wear body armour for that one. Sam has taken on the Derek Venturi "No one messes with Casey other than me" role."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Who died and made him king?"

They looked at each other and grinned.

"I love you, idiot." Casey said affectionately.

"Not as much as I love you, keener."  
And then Casey twisted in his arms and let Derek kiss her.

It was a while before he released her and both their hearts were racing.

"What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?" He asked, suddenly practical.

"Two in the afternoon." Casey replied, slightly breathless. "You?"

"Lunch time."  
"I'll have to come with you then." Casey commented.  
"Oh?"  
"Spike wants to see me. I said I'd come in."

Derek frowned.

"To discuss my protection." Casey explained. "I made it clear that I wasn't going back to London."

"You're so stubborn." Derek commented.

"When it comes to you, yes."

"I guess I only have myself to blame."

Casey smiled. "Yes you do."

Derek played with her hair lying on her bare shoulders.

"You realised I'm fighting a losing battle right now." He noted.

"Oh?"  
"You're naked. So am I."

Casey glanced at the ceiling, but only because it teased Derek.

"It's the middle of the night." She pointed out.

"But we can lie in tomorrow."

"And tomorrow you'll want a quickie before work."  
He raised one eyebrow. "Your point is…?"

Casey chuckled. "Der-ek!"

"What? You're hot," He said stroking her breast. "I'm horny." He traced a line down to her navel. "We're in love." His fingers curved around her hips and began an upward movement on her thigh.

"Why do I get the feeling this is always going to be an argument I'll lose?"

Derek tilted her chin up to meet his.

"Because it's an argument already lost, honey. It was lost the moment we met. Neither of us could win on our own…but together…"

He kissed her sowly. "Together we'll conquer the world! Muha ha ha!" he laughed in a silly voice.

"Derek?"

"Yes Casey?"

"Shut up and kiss me."


	14. Agreement

"A dress?" Derek asked in disbelief as Casey got into his car. She was wearing a long knitted sweater dress which came down to her knees: a dark navy blue with a V-neck and a wide black buckle belt at the waist. She had teamed it with thick stockings and knee-high boots. It clung to her in an almost indecent manner and Derek had done a double-take when he saw her, mentally considering whether they had time to go back into the apartment and take care of …something.

"I thought you were all jeans for work these days?" He went on, ditching the pre-lunch sex idea because he was fairly sure she wouldn't go for it…again.

Casey mumbled something about not being able to wear jeans right now and then blushed a vivid red.

"Sorry…I missed that." Derek commented raising an eyebrow.

"I said. I can't. I'm too tender." She explained as she buckled up. "The seams would…chafe."

Derek stared at her not sure if he was horrified or amused. "I bruised you?" He asked.

Casey shook her head. "I'm just a little…sore. I'm not used to all the…attention in certain areas and…"  
He started to chuckle. Casey smacked at him. "Der-ek!"

Derek pulled away from the kerb. "So comfortable panties for you right now then?" He asked.

Casey rolled her eyes. "You think now that we're lovers you get to ask about my underwear?"

"Duh! Yeah." He smirked. "Boyfriend prerogative. Just wait till I start buying them for you. Of course granny panties are off the agenda now. When I'm having my fantasies about you I don't want to be picturing something that Great-aunt Cecil would wear."

"That isn't a problem today." Casey said airily. "I'm not wearing them."

Derek braked hard, causing the guy in the car behind to swerve around him, blasting his horn.

"You what?" Derek stared at her. "Did you just say you weren't wearing any panties?"

Casey turned her head to the window to hide her laugh as Derek restarted the stalled car.

"No. I said I wasn't wearing granny panties…my normal ones are comfortable enough."

"Oh." Derek sounded deflated and Casey began to laugh.

"You have a one-track mind, Derek."  
"Like you were complaining earlier…" he muttered. They looked at each other then and Derek caught her grin. They smirked at each other.

For a moment there was a companionable silence between them as they both silently remembered some of the highlights of last night.

Then Casey frowned. "Isn't Cecil a guy's name?"

Derek nodded. "We don't talk about him/her very often…family secret." He turned and winked.

"Der-ek!"

A short while later, Derek pulled up at the roll doors for his office building. The guard in the hut outside nodded as Derek swiped his ID card, and threw Casey a grin. Although Casey had never been to the upper levels of the building which contained Derek's department, she was well known in some of the more public areas of the building: the gym and the firing range particularly.

Today at the small sign-in desk in Reception, the ID pass she was given was plainer than the usual ones she used. Instead of stating "Visitor" and a number, it was a plain white card with a chip in it – and to be issued with it, Casey had to give her fingerprints. It was a different set of guards too. Casey wasn't normally here on a weekday.

"Morning Derek." One of the guards greeted him. The other one stared at them the whole time the card was being issued.

Casey raised an eyebrow but Derek waited until they were alone in the elevator.

"Word's gradually getting around about my name. We decided there was no point in hiding it anymore. Sal knows I'm here."

"Oh. Why was that guard staring?"

Derek shrugged. "They aren't used to seeing me with anyone."

"You avoid your co-workers?"  
"Anyone outside of the department, or female. I guess they suddenly realised I'm human and not some demi-god."

Casey choked on that. "Your ego knows no bounds does it?"

Derek laughed.

Security on the levels used by Derek's department was space-age. Derek led the way, letting them in, explaining how Casey's own card worked. She was allowed on the lower of the two Department 15 levels. The upper one, containing records and the tactical ops rooms required higher clearance.

They had left the elevator holding hands, Derek absent-mindedly stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. As they passed down a short corridor, a tall blonde girl in a tight top with equally tight pants stopped and stared at them for a moment, before rearranging her face into one of disgust.

Casey looked quizzically at Derek. He shrugged.

"She's from Admin. And before you ask, no, I didn't."

"Good. I recognise her from my time in the Sexual Health clinic as a student doctor."

Derek looked shocked. "Really?"  
"Not her, exactly, but her type." Casey said, letting go of Derek's hand as he pushed open the door to the office. "Chlamydia, crabs…"

He wasn't surprised about that. "Hmmm…you might want to warn Jazz." He commented.

"Warn Jazz about what?" The man himself asked as they passed his desk.

"Rabies in Admin." Derek said with a grin. "Scratch an itch in there and you'll be scratching itches for a month – or at least until the antibiotics run out."  
"What do you think I am, D? A dog? I'm a picky guy." Jazz objected, winking at Casey.

"Yeah." Derek glared at him. "You pick the _wrong_ ones." He pointed out.

Jazz ignored him. "But you're right. Maybe I should take a look at a more discerning lady." He inclined his head towards Casey. "I did enjoy our time together last night, Sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"

Casey could see what Jazz was up to, and whilst it was amusing and reassuring to see Derek turn possessive, she wasn't about to annoy her boyfriend.

"I slept really well, thank you. I had a nice soak in the bath and an early night with a good book. The world seems a better place this morning."

Jazz looked confused and raised an eyebrow at Derek who met his curiosity with a blank stare. Derek knew what Jazz was puzzled over. Jazz had decided that Derek and Casey were going to resolve their "tension" last night – Jazz had even offered to cover Derek's early shift so that they could – but here was Casey talking about sleeping well and reading books.

Before Jazz could ask about the situation, Spike's door opened and the three of them were called inside the office.

"Hi Casey. Thanks for coming in." Spike said, motioning for Casey to sit down on one of the three seats in front of his desk. Jazz took the seat to her left but Derek crossed to a filing cabinet near the door on which was a large coffee pot. He began to make four cups of coffee.

"My pleasure." Casey said, meaning it. "I've been itching to see what Derek's office looked like."

"Well it makes sense for us to meet here and discuss your safety. I gather you're still intent on staying in Ottawa?"  
Casey looked up at Derek who nodded.

"She is."

Spike was surprised. "You seem…resigned to that decision. Last time we spoke you were vehemently opposed to the idea." He asked Casey's boyfriend.

Derek stepped to the desk and placed Spike's coffee in front of him.

"I'm okay with it." He said. Spike opened his mouth to say something, but Derek interrupted. "I'm okay with it, so long as I get my way on certain points."

He handed Jazz and Casey their coffees and then took his own to his favourite perch against a low bookcase. It meant he could look at Casey which he did over the edge of his coffee cup.

This time it was Casey who spoke.

"Which are?" She asked cautiously.

Derek sipped at his drink. "Number one: You park the granny mobile in the basement here for the foreseeable future and drive the car I pick for you. Your car drives like a tank – a septic one and I'm embarrassed to be anywhere near you when you're in it. Number two: You have a permanent tail on you 24/7 and we switch your GPS locator back on. You are aware of the tail at all times, if they disappear for any reason you stop immediately and you call in, okay?"

Jazz snorted. "Hey Casey! He just told you not to shake your tail!"

Casey grinned and Derek (and Spike) scowled.

"_**Number three:**_" Derek insisted. "I reserve the right to send you back to London at a moment's notice if your life becomes imminently in danger and I'm unable to get the situation under control."

"Derek…"

"Casey, I won't invoke that lightly I promise. I made an agreement with you and I'll stick to it – for as long as possible."

"Okay…" She said cautiously. "And number four?"  
"Number four, I want you to undergo the department's basic training. I want you to learn how to take evasive manoeuvres in the car, to know how to shoot straight and I want you to learn self defence."

"I know self-defence. You made me take the course at college, remember?"  
"This is different."

"How so?"  
Jazz spoke then, his voice calm and uncharacteristically sober. "Because honey, they teach you how to kill."

Casey stared at him, then at Derek and then at Spike. She blew out a breath.

"Okay." She agreed. "I can do all of that."

"Good." Derek said.

"…but I have a condition too." Casey sat up straighter in her chair.  
"Oh?" Spike leaned forward.

"Yes. I want to see Sal's file. I want to see everything you have on Derek's case."

* * *

The problem with a good idea…is sometimes it is too good an idea. Take Casey's idea about the Derek Venturi file for example. When she made the request she expected maybe some resistance and then for them to cave under her pressure and hand her some nice, casually-bound file, maybe about an inch-thick which she could knock off in her break time at the hospital.

What she didn't expect was a password encrypted data stick containing documents and scanned images running to more than five thousand pages. She also didn't expect the amused grin from Jazz and his annoying quip of "happy reading" before he wandered off for a bathroom break – or as he called it "exercising the lizard".

Taking the small piece of technology from Derek's hand, she glanced up at Derek who was leaning against his desk beside her.

"You're okay with this?" She asked, slipping it into her purse.

Derek shrugged.

"I'm not _happy_ about it – and neither will you be. It goes into graphic detail about some of the worst years of my life, but I also get that it's important you know this stuff. I'd rather you read it for yourself than relied on me for the information."  
"You might not remember it all."  
Derek snorted. "Sweetheart, I remember every single letter, piece of punctuation and question mark. It's my old life and my new life and everything in between." He straightened and edged closer to her. "Somewhere in that piece of plastic is the key to getting my old life and my new life reconnected. I've spent more hours reading the damn thing that I care to remember."

Casey nodded. "Then I really need to read it." She said. "I won't have this information stand between us."  
Derek smiled and stroked her cheek. "There's nothing that stands between us, Princess. There never will be."

Stunned that it was Derek saying those words to her, Casey met his gaze. "I love you." She mouthed silently.

"I love you more." He whispered back with a smirk.

Casey rolled her eyes at his blatant competitive comment even in the midst of telling her how much he cared - and Derek laughed.

Jazz came back into the room.

Jazz was confused. He could tell that Casey and Derek had apparently gotten over their disagreement of the past few days, but he had been convinced that "getting over it" would be all about them finally doing the dirty deed. So far he had seen nothing between them to suggest that their relationship had changed any. Of course, he had been out of the room when they had exchanged the declarations of love, and because he wouldn't dream of discussing the matter with any of their co-workers even if they had been close enough to hear the exchange, Jazz was none the wiser.

When Casey herself visited the little girls' room, he pounced on Derek.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked his friend.

Derek frowned. Sometimes Jazz was as dramatic as Casey with the leaps of thought process. Experience with one did not help with understanding the other.

"Are we talking something specific or in general?" Derek asked.

"We're talking about Casey." Jazz said.

Derek glanced up with him.

"What about Casey?"  
"I thought you were going to fix things between you. You know…bridge the gap?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"You do realise you look a complete moron doing that don't you?" Derek pointed out.

"Stop changing the subject."

"What do you want to know?"  
"What happened last night?"  
"I went for a drive."

"Yeah, wise guy. I know. I meant when you got home."

"Casey and I talked." _Eventually._

"And?"  
"And I agreed she could stay in Ottawa. You heard that."  
"And what about your relationship?"  
"What about our relationship?" Derek looked blankly at Jazz. He wasn't coughing to anything. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to hide the fact that he was with Casey. Derek just didn't want it to become a joke.

"When are you going to tap that?"

Derek sighed. "Now you see, that's exactly why you are restricted to the rabid dog pound known as the Admin department. I have never "tapped" anyone's ass, and certainly not Casey's. You're lucky as hell she didn't hear you say that. The girl's a Trauma doctor. She knows exactly the right amount of pressure to put on your balls to inflict maximum pain yet minimum damage."  
"Are you speaking from personal experience?"

"What? No! Unlike you, I know how to behave myself around women. Besides she has other more psychological ways of messing with me."

"Seriously? Derek, are you insane? The girl's in love with you."

Derek leafed through the file he was pretending to read.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

He wasn't as calm inside. It still blew him away that Casey felt the same way about him as he did about her.

Across the office, the door opened and Derek watched his girlfriend as she re-entered the room. She smiled at him, but conscious of Jazz standing nearby he didn't respond.

Jazz narrowed his eyes at his friend but he couldn't see any sign that Derek was hiding something.

"Oh forget it!" he said, leaving in a huff as Casey returned to Derek's desk.

"Forget what?" She asked as she sat down.

Derek angled his body towards hers unconsciously.

"Jazz was trying to persuade me that I should make a move on you." He said his voice at normal volume. "Apparently, you want a piece of me and I should capitalise on that fact." He glanced up at her to gauge her reaction.

"Is he always such a jerk?"  
Derek chuckled. "Only about you. He's not normally so…forthright in his dating advice. It's just I've been single for seven years. He's enjoying the novelty of there being a girl on the scene for me."

"Uh huh." Casey muttered, and then quietly, "Are you going to tell him?"  
Her boyfriend shook his head and spoke in a whisper. "Not right now. His opinion on the subject will be loud, coarse and annoying. I'd rather just enjoy what we have for a while before opening ourselves up to his "I told you sos"."

Casey nodded. "Okay." She checked her watch. "I need to go."

Derek stood up. "I'll get my jacket."

"I'm quite capable of getting a cab, Derek." Casey objected.

"You wanna renegotiate our agreement?" He asked pointedly, referring to his conditions for her staying in Ottawa. "You're not going anywhere without a member of this department nearby. My workload can wait for half an hour while I take you to work. That'll give me chance to sort out the protection detail and make your car arrangements."

Casey opened her mouth to object and then realised that in the spirit of understanding of her new boyfriend's need to protect her, she would just give in.

"Okay." She sighed.

"Wow! I think that was the quickest you've ever caved in!" Derek said with a grin as he put an arm around her and led her to the door.

Casey waited until they were in the corridor before responding. "Sometimes it's not worth the argument with you." She said. "I'm trying to think like a partner should."  
"Thanks."

"Besides," Casey went on as they entered the elevator. "I'd rather say goodbye to you away from Jazz. I'm not in the mood for a simple peck on the cheek."

She grinned at Derek who suddenly felt light-headed.

* * *

By the time they reached the hospital parking lot, anticipation had got the better of both of them, and Derek found himself parking in a space as far off the beaten track as he could. Neither was the type to climb in the backseat in broad daylight, but he didn't think it would look good for Casey if she was caught making out with him at her workplace.

"You never did tell me how your date went last night." Derek pointed out as he switched off the engine.

Casey sighed. "Derek. Do you really want to talk about Robin right now?" She asked her eyes lighting with a fire he was only just realising she was capable of.

"No." He said, crossing the distance between their faces quickly. He pressed a soft quick kiss to her lips. "Definitely not."

It had been several hours now since they had last kissed, but it might as well have been several months for the enthusiasm they both put into the current endeavour. The kisses were deep and desperate, and it was all too easy for Casey to grab hold of Derek's clothes and pull him closer, and for Derek's fingers to finally brush curves he had been eyeing up ever since they left the apartment.

Eventually, it calmed to a more reasonable pace and they could both breathe again.

"Did you kiss like that in High School?" Derek asked against her lips.

Casey, rather dazed, frowned. "I've always kissed the same way, Derek."  
He smirked. "That explains why Sam, Max and Truman all shared that stupid smug grin whenever they left you."

"You mean like the one you're sporting now?"

"Yeah." He beamed. "Exactly like that."

"What time do you finish tonight?" Casey asked after another long kiss.

"Late again. Probably around 12. What about you?"

"The same."

"I'll sort out a car for you before then and I'll get Jazz to drop it off. Call me before you leave here, okay. I want you checking in every time you move site."

"You sound possessive." Casey noted. Derek started to object but she put a finger on his lips. "It's nice. I like it."

Derek sighed. "I just want to hole up somewhere with you. Somewhere with a roaring fire, a kitchen full of food and time to make love to you repeatedly without a phone ringing."

Casey kissed his hand. "There's our next vacation sorted then." She said rubbing her thumb against his skin. "We've wasted so much time." She said regretfully.

"We're not going to waste anymore." Derek said, kissing her again and then looking at his watch, wryly, "Sadly, work calls."

"I know."

"I'll be home when I can. Keep the bed warm."

"Funny. I was just going to say the same to you. Shifts, eh?"

"Just another reason why you're my perfect partner." Derek admitted. He pecked her on the lips. "Now get out the car before I drive you somewhere more secluded and have us christen the back seat."  
"Promises, promises." Casey giggled.

"I thought you were sore?"

Casey got out of the car and shut the door. Derek wound down the window and she leaned in.

"I said I was too sore for jeans…not for you." She said, with a smirk. "Love you!" She trilled and turned to walk quickly away.

Derek watched her go with a smirk on his own face.

"Casey McDonald, just when I think I know you…" He chuckled.

"I love you too." He whispered into the empty space she had just vacated.


	15. A Shock

Derek returned to the office and immediately started to put in place the plans they had discussed earlier in the day. He phoned the specialist leasing company that arranged for the high-performance cars he drove when his own car wasn't suitable. The company were discreet, efficient and offered the cars on a short term basis. Casey would change cars regularly and when the cars left her usage they would be immediately minutely detailed and the ownership re-registered. Derek gave his requirements briefly over the phone, quoted his account number and nodded with satisfaction as they agreed to have the first car delivered to the department within the hour.

Next Derek called his contact in the department responsible for protection surveillance for people connected to the force. He threw Spike's name around a bit, knowing his boss would be in agreement of his actions, and demanded 24/7 protection for one Casey McDonald.

"But I thought…" Derek's peer, "Rusty" objected.

"You thought what?" Derek asked, slightly belligerently. "Look, I know she's not in the department but she's a…she gets spousal privilege." He said, smiling to himself as he joked internally with himself.

"Yeah? Spousal privilege? Who's the lucky guy?"

"What?"

"Oh come on Derek. You think us guys down here were cut off in the war or something? The rumour mill is rife with stories about the hot chick from the Papillion case. Seems she's got the whole of your department taking cold showers and even more disturbingly that desk sergeant from the range."

"Jeez, Rusty, you're starting to sound like Jazz."

"Hey Jazz is cool. Tell him I said hi and he owes me a beer for that stunt he pulled with the bar girl last month…So this Casey…she really is attached? I mean is it totally hopeless? I mean maybe her relationship isn't that steady and she'll be looking for a rebound fairly soon."  
Derek took a deep breath. "Rusty. Shut the fuck up, I live with her, okay?"

"Yeah but rumour has it you're just her roommate. That she's like a sister to you."

"She's off limits. Do me a favour and tell the rest of the pack that." He couldn't keep the possessive edge out of his voice. Rusty picked up on it.

"You're the guy? Ha ha! Well I'm definitely going to come and introduce myself. You have no skills when it comes to women. Hell, I haven't even seen you with a girl in the entire time I've known you."

"Yeah…because of Casey."

"I thought she was new on the scene."

"Long story which I'm not sharing. Look dude, can you sort this protection detail out or not?"  
Rusty shrugged at the other end of the phone. "Sure."

"How long will it take to set up?"  
"How about now?"

"What?" That was lightning fast even on "Buddy" timescales.  
"Spike's had Casey under surveillance for three months."

Derek hung up the phone stunned. Spike had been watching Casey for three months? Why? Did he think she was a security risk?

He stood up and cross the floor to Spike's office, tapping the glass window on his way into the room where Spike had his head over a report.

"You'd think at least one of these morons would know how to use there/their/they're properly." He said softly.

"You're hiring them for their brawn not their brains." Derek pointed out.

"Actually, I'm hiring them for both. Do _you_ understand the difference?"  
"Come again?"

"With your "there's". Do you understand it?"  
Derek shrugged. "'There' for placement, 'Their' for possession, 'They're' for activity, as in 'They are' running."

"How do you know that? I've read your English reports. You sucked."

"I wrote an essay once that I made the mistake of letting Casey proof-read. I mixed them all up by mistake so in disgust she covered my room in pink post-it notes with examples on them. After the 2,000th pink square you kind of get the picture."  
Spike chuckled. "She's good for you."  
"She's perfect." Derek admitted. "Why have you been having her followed?"

His boss shrugged. "There are women who sail through life without a care in the world and nothing ever goes wrong for them, there are women who actively seek out trouble for no other reason than that it excites them."

"And?"

"And then there are women who attract trouble like shit attracts flies, even though their only contribution is the fact they exist. I decided quite soon after I met her that Casey falls into the latter category. I know she's important to you, so I had her followed."

Derek pulled an amused grimace. "I'm trying very hard to ignore the fact that you just called my girlfriend a heap of shit." He pointed out.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Girlfriend."

Derek chuckled and turned to leave the room. "You might want to have a word with the surveillance team. Clearly they aren't doing their job properly!"

* * *

"What happened?" Jazz asked as Derek returned to his desk.

"I was just asking Spike why he's having Casey followed already."  
"He is?" Jazz brushed the new information to one side immediately. "But, I didn't mean just then. I meant last night."

"I got home, I went to bed, I went to sleep."

Jazz frowned. "Did you talk?"  
"To the best of my knowledge I don't talk in my sleep." Derek stated, avoiding the question.

"Did you and Casey talk?"  
"We've had this discussion. You know we did. I agreed to her staying in Ottawa."  
"Yes, but did you really talk?"

"About what?" Derek asked, sensing there was more to this than Jazz trying to find out if he'd slept with Casey.

Jazz opened his mouth to speak, wondering if he was doing the right thing by bringing up the scenes he had witnessed the previous evening, but before a sound came out of his mouth, the phone rang.

Jazz, eager to miss the drama of his imminent conversation, snatched the receiver up.

"Yo!" He barked into the phone. Derek rolled his eyes at his colleague's enthusiasm.

"Whoa! Slow down! I can't understand you. Who is this?"

Derek turned his eyes back to Jazz who had stood up.

"Yeah. He's here. Are you okay? Yeah yeah…" Jazz put his hand over the receiver.

"Derek, it's Casey." He said. "She's crying so much I can't understand a word she's saying."

* * *

Casey was in a good mood when she entered the Trauma wing of the hospital. She was fairly sure she didn't have any of those supposed telltale signs of a heavy make-out session such as swollen lips, hickeys or mussed up hair which all good chick lit says are essential. But inside her whole being was still tingling from the goodbye kiss she had just enjoyed with Derek – and the afterglow of last night. There really is nothing better than finding out that the person you've being in love with for most of your adult life loves you too. And that the sex works!

The one sign she did have was a sort of enigmatic smile that it would take rather a lot to remove from her mouth.

She dropped off her coat, slipped into scrubs, clipped her ID tag to her pocket and then made her way to the floor. Rosita noticed the improvement in Casey's demeanour but said nothing, preferring to wait until a break time before quizzing her.

The Trauma unit was busy and Casey was quickly absorbed into the bedlam.

Time sped by, and before she knew it an hour had passed by.

After a while, the rush died down and Casey began to contemplate getting herself and Rosita a coffee. Over the time that she had been working at the hospital, Rosita had become a good friend – one of the few non-male non-cop acquaintances she had made. They hadn't really seen much of each other outside of work, but they spent most of their shifts having disjointed conversations about life the universe and everything. With the pressures of the busy ER, sometimes it could take them four hours to have a five minute gossip.

They were just about to excuse themselves from their duties for a quick fifteen minute catch up in the staff lounge when the desk phone rang and because Rosita was standing next to it, she answered.

"Oh hello, Ma'am." She said, with a slight downturn of her brow. Casey smiled. Clearly it was management. Everyone always had the same reaction to management.

Their calls rarely heralded any good since they were usually about cutting back on things, or unauthorised leave or stuff. Rosita didn't need to address the administration staff so formerly. Casey knew she was doing it out of nerves.

"Yes. She's here. In fact, she's standing next to me." Rosita said and Casey heard the worried tone in her voice. "Of course Ma'am. I'll send her up."

"What?" Casey asked when Rosita came off the phone.

"You need to go upstairs ASAP."

"Oh?"

"Marie Antoinette wants to see you."

Casey felt a chill down her spine.

"Marie Antoinette" was the nickname the staff had given to the head of the hospital's administration team. It came about because she was named Marie Anton, was French-Canadian and renowned for the ruthless way with which she sacked people.

Casey had personally never met the lady, but just the thought of her made her feel like an errant schoolgirl on the way to the principal's office.

"Wish me luck." She called to Rosita.

"What sort of funeral do you want?" Rosita joked.

"Dignified, lots of music – but don't let Mikey choose!" Casey called back over her shoulder.

* * *

"Ms McDonald." Marie Anton (badly dyed hair failing to cover the grey) said, looking over her half-moon spectacles at the woman standing before her. "I've heard of you of course. Urgent transfer from London, strings pulled all over the place to get you here."

Ms Anton did not seem impressed. Casey didn't exactly blame her. She wasn't particularly pleased with the way her transfer had been arranged but she had accepted it at the time because it meant she didn't have to go home to London and leave Derek at a time when she had only just got him back.

She watched the stern woman of about forty as she turned her eyes back down to the file in front of her.

"Top of your graduating class, eh? Hmmm…friends in high places?" There was no humour in the older woman's voice.

"Pardon?" Casey asked, astonished.

"I asked if you were used to the path in front of you being greased." Ms Anton said more forcefully.

"Ms Anton. I have to say I resent the implication in that comment." Casey shifted her balance to stand straighter. "I worked extremely hard to get where I am."

"Really? Because it seems to me that you have had a very _charmed_ existence: A high class degree, a higher than usual position in one hospital, and a privately arranged transfer to another hospital…tell me, _Ms_ McDonald. What exactly _did_ it take to get where you are right now? _Who_ did it take?"

Casey's eyes widened and many, many hot comments sprung to her tongue in her own defence. The one thing Casey had learnt over the years with hospital politics was that losing your temper didn't solve anything.

"Can I ask why you wish to see me?" She said quietly. "Is there a problem?"  
"Is there a problem?" Ms Anton repeated quietly, thoughtfully. "Oh yes. I'd say there was a problem."  
"Do you think you might possibly tell me what it is so that I can understand where this character assassination is coming from?" Casey asked, barely keeping a lid on her anger.

"I'm had a complaint from a very senior member of staff about impropriety on your part. It's a very serious allegation and I find it necessary to suspend you pending a formal inquiry."

"A complaint? Suspend me?" Casey gasped. "But, I've done nothing wrong!"

"Forgive me, Ms McDonald, but the last time I looked, offering to," She looked down at her notes. "… '_spread your legs'_ in return for the chance to get on one of the senior boards of this hospital was very wrong indeed."

Casey stared at her in horror. "I did _what?_" She hissed. "There must be some mistake, I never…"

And then it hit her.

Robin.

In her Derek-induced fog of the past sixteen hours, Casey had pushed the horrible events of the previous night to the back of her mind.

Now they came flooding back.

Robin, _her boss_, her _superior_ had tricked her into going to dinner with him, had made veiled offers of job preferment in exchange for something sexual. He had tried to seduce her – and kissed her when she had given him no encouragement. In every definition of the word he had sexually harassed her – something which could cost him his job.

Now in the cold light of day he had recognised this, where Casey had been too distracted to notice. Now in an effort to save his own hide, he had lodged a complaint against _Casey_, citing _her_ sexual harassment of him.

Now if she tried to claim he had harassed her, the claims would look false.

"In view of these allegations, I have no choice but to suspend you pending an investigation and a formal hearing." Ms Anton went on. "Unless of course you would prefer to save us all the trouble and resign now."  
Casey, devastated, and on the edge of tears, woke up.

"Resign?" She asked.

"Ms McDonald, it is the word of a senior trauma specialist, a blemish-free physician of many years standing against a more junior doctor who has only worked for this hospital for less than four months. Who do you think is going to walk away from this with their job?"

Casey found a new fire within her. She drew herself up to her full height and folded her arms.

"Firstly _Mizz_ Anton," Casey hissed. "It is _Doctor_ McDonald to you. I got my degree on merit and merit alone, thank you very much and you _will_ address me by my correct title. Secondly," Casey leaned forward. "I have not led a _charmed_ life, I went into Trauma medicine because I lost someone I love very much to a gun shot wound. The subsequent grief and drive to succeed is what made me graduate with such high honours and earned me the _respect_ of my college professors. As a result of that alone, they wrote unsolicited glowing letters of recommendation to every major hospital in Canada and the North-Eastern seaboard of the US. I was offered positions in twelve. Instead of choosing the best, I chose London because that was where my brother was shot. Their trauma centre was under-staffed and he had to be transferred to Toronto. I wanted to change that situation." Casey gasped a breath.

"Thirdly, it was your esteemed colleague who insisted that I go to dinner with him despite the fact that I live with someone. It was him that chose an expensive restaurant and I have in my purse a check which I intended to give to his secretary during my lunch hour. It is enough to cover my portion of the bill in a restaurant which I was uncomfortable in. Fourthly, I am in a loving and committed relationship with someone I love and live with. The thought of any kind of relations with anyone else frankly disgusts me."  
Marie Anton tried to say something but Casey held up her hand.

"And _finally_, if the department hadn't been so busy as soon as I arrived for my shift it would have been _me_ filing a complaint against Robin. His behaviour last night was appalling. I have absolutely no intention of resigning from this job which I love. I also have no intention of allowing you or your Head of Trauma ruin my life with your lies and blatant attempts to save his skin. Now, if you still intend to suspend me, I shall return downstairs and collect my things before leaving. You _will_ be hearing from my lawyers in due course."

And with that, Casey spun on her heel and left the room, the door slamming behind her.

In the corridor outside, she fell apart.


	16. Bea

The doors to the ER opened with a swish and Derek almost ploughed down an orderly in his hurry to get to Casey. He had drawn himself to his full height which, whilst not lofty, was impressive all the same. He looked intimidating though Jazz, following on behind him with his crutch, couldn't blame him. The firearm poking out from under his jacket didn't help.

"Where is she?" Derek asked the receptionist.

"I'm sorry?" the girl asked not recognising him, clearly new and not used to Derek's almost constant presence at the hospital.

"Dr McDonald. Where is she?" Derek repeated stepping forward in a slightly (if unintentionally) menacing manner.

"Sir, I must ask you to calm down and step away from the desk before I'm forced to call security." The girl was young and inexperienced – and also a little trigger happy for the panic button to her right.

Jazz groaned and stepped up to the desk beside Derek. He flashed his ID at the young girl.

"That won't necessary. This is Dr McDonald's…partner." _Might as well speak what we all know is the truth._ "She's called him in some distress and he's concerned. Could you point us in whichever direction she is currently in, please?"  
The girl, in a degree of shock at the sight of men with guns and ID badges, pointed lamely to a side room rather than hit the button. Jazz flashed her a smile and grabbing Derek's arm pulled him away.

"What was that about?" Derek asked his friend, confused.

"The last thing Casey needs is you getting arrested." Jazz pointed out.

The door to the room they were approaching opened and Rosita stuck her head out.

"Oh good. It's you. About time, she's in a right state."  
"What happened?" Derek asked. Like Jazz before him, he hadn't been able to get any information out of Casey on the phone.

Rosita grimaced. "They've suspended her. The hospital board have, I mean."  
"What?" Derek gasped. "Why?"  
"Sexual impropriety." Rosita informed him.

"Sexual what?" Derek's jaw dropped. Sex in context with Casey was something he was only just beginning to discover. The idea that Casey could be _improper_ about sex was just…wrong.

For Jazz, however, the penny dropped.

"Oh my god! Last night! Let me guess that ass-hole made a complaint." He said to Rosita who nodded.

"What ass-hole? _What_ complaint?" Derek's voice was rising, so Rosita pulled them both into the room and shut the door behind them. The girl on reception breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the next enquiry.

The room Rosita had drawn them into was empty.

"Where's Casey?" Derek asked.

"The "Little Girl's" room. She's a mess."  
"What the fuck's going on, Rosita?" He demanded.

But it was Jazz that answered.

"That dick of a doctor came on to Casey last night. She gave him short shrift and I guess now, in order to save his own behind he's made a complaint to the hospital that _she_ tried it on with _him_. Am I right?" He looked to Rosita for confirmation. She nodded.

"He complained to the board first thing. They held an emergency meeting and when Casey arrived for her shift they called her in for censure – they are couching the whole process in ideas of investigation and due process, but from what Casey has told me, their minds are made up. After all, Casey is the junior here. Who are they going to believe?"

"You knew about this?" Derek asked turning to Jazz. "You knew about this and you didn't tell me?" His anger was growing and he was desperate to find an outlet.

"Last night when I was following her…" Rosita's eyebrows rose but neither of the guys enlightened her. "…I didn't like Casey's body language as I watched her through the window of the coffee shop. I was just on my way inside to see what I could do to help when she came storming out."  
"You saw what happened?"  
"Not exactly. I pieced it together when she got into my car. I didn't tell you because I knew how you would react. I told Casey not to tell you because we both thought she'd already handled it and you two sorting your shit out was more important." Jazz gave Derek a pointed look. "Then _this morning_ when it was obvious that you were at least talking to each other again, I thought maybe I should tell you – somewhere that I could ensure I wouldn't be involved in a departmental homicide. I _tried_ to tell you but we got interrupted, remember?" Jazz frowned. "So Casey didn't tell you this morning?"

Derek shook his head. This morning, like last night, had involved very little in the way of speech – and what talking they had done had been about them and their future, not some egotistical jerk of a doctor who couldn't keep it in his pants. Derek closed his eyes for a moment remembering the feel of her skin on his when he had woken, Casey's body woven into his own, and the soft rise and fall of her breast against his own chest. He wanted to be back in that moment.

He opened his eyes again as a small door off to the side moved and Casey, still openly weeping and looking like a sad caricature of her earlier self, came back into the room.

"I didn't tell you because it wasn't important to me at the time." She said quietly confirming that she had overheard their conversation. "I just wanted to get our argument resolved and…I never thought he'd be so cruel."  
"He's a fucking jerk, Casey." Derek said clenching his fists in an effort to control his anger as he crossed the room to her.  
"I know. You warned me and I didn't listen. I'm sorry." Casey looked up at him and his ire disappeared as soon as he saw the pain in her eyes. She needed him more than she needed his anger.

"He's ruined my career." She stated. Her confidence in the face of Marie Anton was gone. "No one will ever hire me again."

Derek shook his head. "Don't say that. It won't happen like that. Not if I have anything to say about it."

He pulled her into his arms; the need to comfort his lover overriding his need to punch the crap out of her boss – for now. Casey let his arms wrap around her and rested her face in his shoulder. He smelled reassuring and familiar; clean with the faintest trace of his own personal musk that had filled her senses the previous night. Her new position soothed and calmed her, the sobs beginning to die away as Derek rubbed her back, murmuring softly in her ear. His eyes met Jazz's over her head and despite the soft words, Jazz could see the steel resolve in Derek's eyes.

"Where is he?" Jazz asked turning to Casey's colleague, suddenly worried about the renewed potential for a homicide.

Rosita sighed. "Rumour has it he's taken a week's annual leave for "personal reasons". I tried to go give him a piece of my mind but the bastard has packed a bag and gone for a vacation somewhere because he's so "traumatised"."  
"Traumatised? Even if the fucking story was true, what sane, straight guy in his right mind would be traumatised by Casey coming onto him? That shit don't fly with me and it shouldn't fly with any one else with a brain."

Rosita hid a smile as Jazz ranted.

"However," he went on. "His absence is a good thing seeing as Derek here is about ready to reach down the jerk's throat and pull his dick up out through his mouth. I know I am."

"That's quite some rhetoric you've got there." Rosita commented, impressed. "But it's not just Robin that's at fault here. The administration was too quick to judge."

"The administration?"  
Rosita corrected herself. "Well…actually by that I mean that the board were clearly railroaded into a premature decision by Robin and his Marie Antoinette."  
"Marie who?"  
"Marie Anton. The mega ice-bitch who controls the hospital board. Rumour has it – again- that she and Robin had a _thing_ once upon a time and it was never over as far as she was concerned. She'll hate Casey for two reasons: one because she has the potential to ruin Robin and two because clearly Robin showed an interest in Casey and she rebuffed it. She'll be jealous and protective in one go."  
"Is she around?"  
"No. But Casey's already given her a pretty decent earful apparently."  
Derek pulled back slightly to look at Casey's face. She blushed.

"She called into question the validity of my qualifications. She accused me of sleeping my way into my position and said that my "charmed" life couldn't continue in her hospital. All I did was defend myself."  
Rosita coughed. "You also told her you'd set your lawyers on the administration."

"I don't have a lawyer, Roz. My stepfather normally handles all my legal stuff and I can't go to him with this." Casey turned to Derek. "I honestly didn't try it on with Robin." She said urging him to believe her.

On a normal day, Derek would have laughed at her earnest expression but she looked so distraught.

"I know." He said kissing her temple, because he did. If Casey had meant the few _private_ words they had exchanged in the last twenty four hours, this relationship was as important to her as it was to Derek. The time they were arguing was very painful for both of them and one thing was very clear - Casey wouldn't have been capable of trying to seduce her superior last night because her mind was too full of Derek. Just like his mind was full of her.

Even now, when part of him wanted so badly to retaliate against the evil duo which was threatening Casey's vocation, a greater part of him wanted to whisk her away and protect her.

"Come on." He said softly, kissing her forehead again. "We can't achieve anything in this place now. Let's get out of here and get some advice."

"I told her to expect my lawyer." Casey said. "I don't have one."

"Neither do I." said Derek. "But we'll find one."

Jazz had started towards the door, but he paused. "Hmmm…actually, Robin and the dragon lady aren't the only ones with exes. Maybe it's time I introduced you to one of mine."

* * *

The bar was badly lit, nicotine-stained and rough around the edges. It was dark squared-off wood and hard surfaces; no curves, no soft furnishings, and totally without a woman's touch.

Whilst clearly not the lowest dive in town, there was little glamour about it.

The old pictures on the walls were of large men with very little clothing and cauliflower ears; boxers. Many of them were shaking hands with smart-looking men in tailored suits waving fat cigars between index and middle fingers. In some pictures, clearly old posters, wording could be seen – sometimes in a Gaelic font, sometimes the language was Italian. This was a bar with a definite identity even if its nationality was uncertain.

Despite the bye-law prohibiting smoking in a public place, and the fact that Casey could see no evidence of anyone actually lighting up, there was a faint taint to the air and a mist which softened the hardened edges of the scene before her. She guessed that the residual smoke was like the thin layer of tar and nicotine on the walls - ingrained in the atmosphere, a legacy of decades of drinkers who smoked as they downed their beer. The current clientele also probably brought the scent in with them on their skin: a miasma that surrounds a heavy smoker even when the cigarette is absent from their fingers.

Casey wasn't one to stereotype but she could tell the type of people this place attracted: male, blue-collar workers, often boxing fans, often Irish or Italian. She guessed it was the sort of place that generations of men had enjoyed their first beer in, taken there by their fathers and grandfathers for their coming of age; a place of sanctuary from work and home life.

Right now the place was neither empty nor busy; just a few patrons drinking beer and shooting pool. They may not be smoking right now, but in all other respects they fitted the profile.

Casey stuck out like a sore thumb and unconsciously she moved closer to Derek.

"What'll you have?" Jazz asked her as they made for the bar area.

"Mineral water." Casey said.

The two guys she knew swivelled abruptly to stare at her. Casey rolled her eyes.

"Okay. I'll have a beer." She amended. "The lowest strength they have."

"Can't you even try to blend in?" Derek hissed with a wry smile.

Casey chuckled. "Derek, sweetheart, in order to blend in here I'd need to grow a pair and learn to scratch them. The only kind of girl that looks right in here is…"  
"…_IS_…?" A very feminine voice said behind them.

They turned quickly at the unexpected sound.

She was short, with long black-hair and skinny. She was also incredibly beautiful. Her minute figure was poured into the tightest black jeans Casey had ever seen and a wide studded belt hanging low on her hips. A rather ample bust was stuffed into an Iron Maiden t-shirt that looked like it had shrunk in the wash and her wrists had studded leather cuffs on them. Casey was pretty sure that somewhere on the girl's body there would be art.

Realising that anything she had been about to say would probably have insulted the girl in front of her, Casey blushed. "Erm…"

But the girl had lost interest.

"Mine's a straight Jack." She announced pointedly in the direction of Jazz.

"Buy it yourself." Derek's friend retorted.

"You owe me, asshole." The girl said.

"Like fuck I do." He replied. "I apologised. I apologise every time I see you. It does not give you the right to demand payment."  
The girl smiled. "Maybe not." She said. "But clearly the very fact you're here means you want something. So equally clearly it is in your best interests to keep me sweet."  
"Why does everything have to be about you? Why can't we just be here because I fancied a beer?"  
"The beer in here tastes like piss." The girl said, raising her eyes to the barman. "No offence Paddy."

"None taken, B. If I served the decent stuff in here the guys would never leave. At least eventually even this lot reach a limit."

"B" grinned, making her look even more attractive. Casey who was watching Jazz's face saw something pass across his eyes, like a shot of pain. As quick as it came it went. He sighed.

"Give her a shot, Paddy." He said, tossing some notes onto the bar. "She'll wear me down eventually anyway and I can't be doing with it tonight. And give us three beers – the bottled stuff that you keep for your friends not that bilge water you pass off as alcohol."

Paddy busied himself flicking off the caps of three beer bottles, thumping them on the counter and then turned to optics to dispense the Jack Daniels into a glass.

They waited until all the drinks were ready.

"So Jason…" B began. "What mess do you need me to bail you out of now?"

"Why does it have to be me?"  
"B" laughed. "Because you have an ego the size of Canada and it's never about anything else?"  
Casey raised an eyebrow at Derek at the familiarity of the comment. He gave her a WTF look in return and then they both grinned.

"B" jerked her head in the direction of a vacant table and the group followed her bringing their drinks. She scooted into the corner of the small enclosure, tucking her legs up onto the bench seat. Derek dived into the equivalent space on the other side of the table and pulled Casey in behind him. Reluctantly, Jazz was left with the small stool at the end of the table.

"So do I get to be introduced to your charming companions or do we all spend the rest of the evening smiling politely but awkwardly at each other?" "B" asked.

Jazz rolled his eyes.

"Casey, Derek, meet "B"…that's "B.E.A" by the way. Short for "Beatrice" although she'll cut off my balls for mentioning it."

Casey smiled warmly and offered her hand. "Nice to meet you, Bea." She said, intrigued by the woman before her – and the apparent "relationship" she had with Derek's friend.

"And you, Casey. I assume from the possessive way "Derek" here is grabbing hold of you that you are with him and not the moron currently perched at the end of the table."

Casey grinned. "You assume correctly. Derek is my…"

"…destiny." Derek quipped from behind her, planting a noisy kiss on her neck.  
"…cross. You know, as in the one we all have to bear?" Casey said, rolling her eyes. "Are we to assume that you and Jazz are also "acquainted"?"

Bea glanced towards Derek's co-worker and snorted. "You didn't tell them about me?"

Jazz raised an eyebrow and glugged his beer. "What's to tell?" He asked.

Casey saw the same flash of hurt from earlier but this time it passed Bea's eyes. She began to have suspicions.

"Nice." Bea said in a tone that clearly stated the opposite, and then, in answer to Casey. "Yes we know each other. Although, clearly Jason wishes it was otherwise."  
"Jason?" Casey queried. She knew that was Jazz's name, she had seen that at the hospital when she had sort out his status to reassure Derek– and when she and Derek had subsequently visited him. It was strange, however, that this person who seemed to know him so well did not call him by the nickname that everyone else used – even Derek's boss.

"Jason." Bea stated. "I don't like the "Jazz" moniker. It fits his ego, "All that Jazz" crap etc but…" she looked at Jazz with a certain pain. "I prefer Jason."

And Casey got the impression that Bea wasn't just talking about the name.

"How do you know each other?" Casey pushed.

"We went to school together." Jazz cut across whatever answer Bea had been going to give. She glared at him and he met the look without emotion, but she didn't correct him.

"Casey, honey, I'm sure you're a lovely person and everything, but here's the deal. Jason and I hate each other, so for him to seek me out means it must be something important that he needs help with. I don't know what that is, but I can tell you now that it is a lot more important than our back history. So why don't we cut to the chase scene and get on with it?"

Casey closed her mouth. She felt reprimanded like an errant school girl, but any retort she might have given evaporated when she saw the look in Bea's eyes. She wasn't being rude because she didn't like Casey. She was being rude because talking about Jazz was painful to her. Casey could sympathise.

Unfortunately, she couldn't explain why Bea would be able to help because as of yet, Jazz had not explained why they were here. As she thought this, Jazz downed the last of his beer and banged it onto the table, calling for another one from Paddy before enlightening Bea.

"Casey's boss made a pass at her last night and when she rebuffed him he reported _her_ for sexual harassment. Her career is in jeopardy."

Bea nodded. "Okay…I'll talk to…"

"No! I want you to handle it."

"Jason, I don't…"

"Call it a favour." Jazz said. "And I'll do you one. I promise I'll stay away in future."

"You promised last time."

"This time I mean it." Jazz said.

For a second, Casey thought Bea was going to reject the deal. In her shoes Casey would have done. Jazz was asking Bea to let him walk away from her and even though she had only met the girl fifteen minutes ago, Casey could tell that Jazz walking away from Bea would break the girl's heart.

It surprised her then when Bea nodded.

"Fine. I'll deal with it." Bea said.

Derek frowned and leaned forward.

"Deal with it how?" He was confused. He too could see all the secret glances between his friend and this strange, rather frightening woman. He was also rather put off by the dive they were drinking in, and the whole circumstances of this meeting.

It was Jazz who spoke.

"Bea's an attorney." He said. Casey's shock didn't prevent her from hearing the very slight note of pride in Jazz's voice. "She specialises in employment law."

"So what do you think their history is?" Casey called from the bed later that night. Derek was brushing his teeth in the bathroom. His head appeared around the door.

"History?"  
Casey shrugged. "Jazz described Bea as "an ex", and they clearly hate each other. Has he mentioned her before?"

Derek spat into the sink, wiped his mouth, and exited the small room, turning off the pull-light as he did so. He had sleep pants on but no t-shirt, a sort of compromise between the total nakedness he desired and the need to respect Casey and not assume that just because they had had sex a couple of times in the past twenty four hours meant that they would have sex again tonight.

"I've never heard of Bea before today." Derek said, pulling back the covers and slipping into bed beside his girlfriend. "I've never really thought about Jazz and serious relationships. He's always been a bit too…"  
"I know." Casey cut across him, part of her reluctant to hear details.

"He doesn't date. Or at least he hasn't really dated since I've known him. Sure there have been girls that he's spent more than one night with but he's just not ever looked like the settling down type."  
Casey snorted. "You got on well then?"

Derek sighed. "I'm not rising to that. You and I have only just started talking again and I'd like to enjoy our new-found relationship a bit longer before one of us throws it down the tubes. I'm not a man-whore Casey. I haven't had serious relationship for a very serious reason. Jazz is different. I don't know why he is the way he is."

"Do you think she'll be able to help me?" Casey asked the uncertainty back in her voice.

He picked up her hand from the comforter and kissed it.

"I guess you'll find out tomorrow when you go to Bea's office." He replied.

"She's not the first thing I'd picture if I wanted an attorney."

"Jazz says she's good at her job. We need to trust his judgement." Derek noted.

Casey nodded. "I do…when it comes to the serious stuff anyway. I just…how can I prove that I didn't proposition Robin?"  
"I thought the idea was that they had to prove that you did."

Casey snorted. "Oh yeah. Me standing there saying "so prove it" will make me sound _all_ innocent." There was sarcasm in her voice. "I need this to go away permanently, D. I can't have it hanging over me." Her voice trailed away at the end.  
"I know." He whispered, his fingers playing with her hair. Casey inched closer, wanting Derek to take her mind off what had been an appalling afternoon – even if the events of the morning prevented her from calling it a bad day. She wanted to go back to the tangle of limbs and emotions she had woken to.

As soon as possible.

"Jazz and Bea still care about each other." Casey said. "Despite all the vitriol."

Derek nodded. "Do you think that's what we sound like to other people?" his fingers stroked the back of her neck.  
Casey smiled. "What we _used_ to sound like." She said, moving closer to him. "Fortunately we have a different outlet for our…passion now."

And suddenly Derek was very interested in the topic at hand. And the tiny night dress she was currently wearing under the covers.

"Oh?" He smirked. "Care to enlighten me?"  
Casey also smirked. "I'm going to do more than enlighten you." She promised and leaned over to turn down the light.


	17. Gamma

"Absolutely no way!" Casey exclaimed. "Not a chance!"

Derek looked baffled. "Why not?"

"Do I look like I belong to the Playboy mansion?"  
Derek glanced up and down at her and smirked. "You really want me to answer that?

Casey glared at him. She was wearing a pink silk shirt and a grey pencil skirt. The outfit fitted her figure neatly, but she looked smart and sophisticated – not at all coquettish.

"You're on dangerous ground Venturi." She warned. The accompanying tilt of her head made him think twice about jocularity.

They were standing in the parking lot of the Department building the day after they had been introduced to Bea. Derek had brought Casey down here to show her the car he had arranged for her to use. Her own car had been brought in and was being stored under lock and key until such time as Casey was no longer under threat from Sal.

The car Derek had ordered Casey was a small, but well-built sports car in a deep grey colour. It was sleek but not extravagant and the engine was powerful; the controls quick and responsive. Derek had ordered it because it would get her out of trouble in a chase. Nevertheless, Casey was right. The car would look pretty good with an attractive woman laid out on its hood…in Derek's eyes one particular attractive woman.

"I…" he started. Casey leapt in.

"Fast cars, fast women…I'm not a fast woman."  
"No. I know. I've been in the car with you driving." Sometimes a quip was just too good to resist whatever the "danger".

"Der-ek!" Casey sighed, exasperated.

Derek met her eyes and grinned. "Come on. You'd miss it if I didn't bite." He stated.

She shook her head – but her mouth was turned up in a small grin of her own. Derek went on as he stepped closer to her.

"I know you like your old car…"

"…it wasn't old, Derek. I've only had it a year." She protested.

"…but," he ignored the interruption and reached up to stroke her cheek. "It's no use in a chase." His voice whispered low and seductive. "It's too big, it has the turning circle of an eighteen wheeler and your only chance of outrunning the bad guy is if there's a following wind and you're on a downward slope – oh and if he gets a flat." Derek pressed a kiss against her neck

"That's unfair!" She objected and twisted away from him.

"Casey." He put a hand on her arm to stop her running too far. "You stick to sutures, and I'll stick to high speed chases, okay? I know what I'm talking about. I've been a target for a very long time. Like it or not, you are a target now too: a very visible target. You're not only a member of my family; you're the most important member of my family. Sal would like to make my death as painful as possible so if he gets to inflict pain on my nearest and dearest in the process he will do. I want you to stand a chance of getting away from him." He stopped and his expression became pained. "I'm not losing you."

Derek stepped close to her again and dropped his lips to her ear. "It's taken me long enough to work my way into your pants I'd rather like to stay there."

Casey felt his breath on her neck and the warmth of his proximity in the chilly underground parking lot.

"I _bet_ you would." She said, a dark seductive look of her own in her eyes – and _there_ was the coquettishness!

Derek pressed a kiss on her neck.

"Believe it or not, I didn't organise this car for you so that I could fantasise about you spread over its hood."

"Really?" Casey's tone queried but disbelieved. Her fingers crept around him to stroke the back of his neck.

Derek snorted softly and kissed her ear. "Your ego is as big as mine, isn't it?" he checked. Casey laughed, liking the attention he was paying her, even if she didn't like the car. She knew what his game was, he was trying to distract her - but that didn't mean she wanted him to stop.

But stop he did.

Derek straightened and took her hand, pulling her around to the driver's door.

"It's fast, it's compact and it's non-descript. It's perfect. I want you to get used to driving it for a few days and then I'll get one of the guys from Traffic to take you on the skid circuit and teach you some evasive manoeuvres." He finished with a flourish.

"Do I get a choice in this?" Casey asked.

"Nope."

She sighed, leaned against the car with one elbow and looked up at Derek, irritation still causing a fire in her eyes – irritation and something else. Resting as she was against the sports car, unwittingly she was already fulfilling a fantasy of his…

…which only deepened when she ran a finger down his shirt.

"Tell me, honey." Casey said, taking a deep breath so that her breasts pressed against the silk of her blouse. "These evasive manoeuvres? Do they work on you?"

* * *

Casey didn't have lunch with Derek. Aware that he had spent too much time out of the office recently, Derek turned his attention to his overloaded in-tray instead. It was sort of a moot point anyway because Casey did have a lunch date with someone else…Bea.

The appointment was actually in Bea's office on the outskirts of town so Derek suggested Casey drive herself in her new car, protection detail following along behind. Sensing that she wouldn't win the argument about the vehicle or the detail, Casey saved her energy for more important battles that she knew would come one day. She took her purse from Derek's desk, pressed a kiss on the top of his head and paused dramatically.

"Oh!" She said in a tone that said she was surprised by something. Derek looked up.

"Oh what?" he frowned.

"Erm…" Casey hesitated as if trying to hide something, watching his reaction from the corner of her eye.

"Erm what?" Derek pushed cautiously.

Casey straightened, shrugged and murmuring something about hair loss remedies (with a ruffle of his hair) she waved goodbye to Derek and Spike - and left.

Derek ran nervous fingers through his (completely fine) locks and deepened the frown.

Spike laughed. "She's winding you up. There's nothing wrong with your hair."

His friend sighed. "It's a sore point. My dad's dad had a bald patch like a monk and George was starting to thin a bit last time I saw him."

Spike chuckled. "You'll be fine. You don't get baldness from your dad's side of the family?"

"Really?" Derek perked up.

"Really. So no tonsure for you." Spike confirmed. "Hereditary baldness comes from your mother's side of the family."

"Fuck!" Derek scowled again.

"Oh?"

"Abby's dad was as bald as a coot." He said, leaping up and dashing after Casey to find out if she really meant it.

* * *

Derek interruptions aside, when she eventually got under way, Casey didn't rely on her sense of direction. The new car had a navigation system in it like Casey's existing car. Or rather it had a more state-of-the-art one and the female voice pre-programmed into it sounded like it was trying to take you to bed rather than Wal-mart. Making a mental note to change the voice settings in the near future, Casey typed in the address Jazz had given her the previous day and let the car guide her to Bea's office.

As she drove she considered the diminutive woman who she had met the previous day. Bea had been unlike any other woman she had ever met because she didn't fit a profile at all. Her clothes sense was raw and confrontational; the sort of look you would expect from someone who worked in a tattoo parlour or a bar.

But then Bea's occupation was a complete contrast. She was clearly a very intelligent person. That's not to say that her look made her look unintelligent, just that…well that members of the legal profession rarely dress like that!

Then there was the whole Jazz thing. Neither Casey nor Derek knew the story behind what seemed like an unlikely pairing. Casey was convinced however, that they had been a pairing at some point. She wondered when it had started and when, and how, the story had ended. Then she remembered the hurt in both their eyes and she wondered if it really had ended.

Bea's offices were a bit of a shock. They were large, smart and in quite an affluent end of town. After she had parked in the allocated lot, Casey double-checked to make sure she had the address correctly written down because there was a disconnect between the girl she had met yesterday and the type of person she expected to work in this building.

Finding the address was indeed accurate, Casey grabbed her purse, locked her car and entered the glass and steel building.

"Casey McDonald to see Ms Evans." Casey announced to the main receptionist who smiled briefly and picked up the phone. After a short conversation with someone who she suspected was another receptionist, Casey was directed to the third floor reception area. This time, the receptionist was actually a secretary and the atmosphere was much quieter. It was also warmer.

"Dr McDonald." The secretary, a pleasant lady in her late sixties smiled warmly. "Bea will see you now."

Appreciating the informal appellation for her employer, Casey smiled warmly back in return at the lady who looked like someone's grandmother and followed the direction of her gaze to an open door off to the right. Casey walked towards the door and then froze when she reached the opening.

Inside the smart, expensive office was a short lady in an immaculately tailored suit, natural-coloured pantyhose and Louboutin pumps. Her hair, a rich glossy black was pulled tightly back into a French pleat and she was wearing a pair of frameless designer glasses that Casey – used to Derek's vernacular - could only describe as "hot – in a librarian sort of way".

The lady looked up as Casey approached.

"Oh! Hi Casey!"

Casey's jaw dropped as she stared – and then apologised profusely.

Bea grinned. "S'ok. It gets most people like that the first time they see me at work. Of course my work colleagues also freak out when they see me off-duty."

"Sorry, Bea." Casey apologised again. "I just…wow!"

Bea motioned for Casey to sit on the formal-looking brown leather sofa at one side before picking "her" armchair. Casey sunk down onto the sofa and her eyes again expressed surprise when the "formal" sofa proved to be incredibly comfortable, both soft and supportive at the same time.

Her companion smiled.

"People usually ask me which is the real me, the rocker chick or the uptight librarian, but the answer is they are both me. I just keep the two parts of me very separate."

Casey nodded in understanding.

"There's a practical reasoning behind it too, though. My job is employment law, and I'll be honest and say most of the injustices in the world of work tend to happen at the lower end of the social scale. You know warehousemen being forced out because they are active members of the union, fitters hurt because of cost-cutting. Those types of people aren't comfortable in a high end office talking to a woman in $500 shoes. They only really relax and open up in a bar over a game of pool. I go to them rather than let them come to me. I keep the offices going because their _employers_ don't respect a tiny girl in an Origin of Symmetry t-shirt. For them I have to "come" the cool-headed, sharp-eyed lawyer who graduated top of her class – the one who won the major law-suit against Philip Morris."

"You _won_ a law suit against Philip Morris?" Casey was impressed. Bea nodded.

"I was newly qualified and they underestimated the tiny new girl." She explained. "Now. Let's hear about your situation and I'll see what I can do to help."

Casey took a deep breath. She didn't want to let her emotions get away with her in front of this strong woman but it was still quite raw.

"It's complicated." Casey said.

"Oh? I gathered from Jason that it was quite straight forward. Your boss made a pass at you that you rejected and in retaliation he reported you for making the pass. Is that not how it happened?"  
Casey sighed. "No. That's exactly how it happened. It's just… well I know that you are going to ask me questions about why I went to dinner with the guy and why I am on first name terms with him. All of that is complicated."

Bea shook her head. "Casey, the truth is always black and white. We try to colour it and dilute it but when you focus properly all you are left with is hard realities. Understanding how truth works is what makes the difference between a good lawyer and a bad lawyer: an innocent man's attorney if he is doing his job properly knows how to strip away the extra colouring leaving stark facts. A guilty man's attorney knows how to swirl and mess the picture with murkiness, destroying the clarity that a jury needs for conviction. The question is do you want me to represent you as an innocent or not?"  
"Innocent of course!" Casey exclaimed. "I didn't make a pass at him. I couldn't have. I don't…look at men…I…" Casey didn't know where to start.

Bea raised an eyebrow.

"You don't look at men? Does that mean what I think it does? Only you looked pretty cosy with Derek last night."

Casey's eyes widened. "What? NO! I like men just as well as the next woman. I just…" Before she could form the words she wanted to, there was a knock at the door and the secretary from outside came in.

"Oh hi Gamma! Come in!" Bea said. The elderly lady who was far from frail entered the room pushing a small trolley loaded with a selection of food clearly designed to be eaten without detracting from the conversation going on. Everything was neat and easily picked up. There was nothing messy or likely to drip, and although there were smart plates and cloth napkins, there was no cutlery.

"Is this sort of food okay for you?" Bea asked. "Gamma makes it herself so it's all fresh."

"It's perfect." said Casey, smiling at the older woman who returned the smile, quietly turned and left the room. "She seems very efficient." Casey commented.

Bea glanced towards the door. "I'm lost without her. She taught me one of the biggest lessons of my career – prejudice leaves you with a half life. Being open to everyone being equals is far more rewarding. My old secretary got pregnant and decided to become a stay-at-home mom so she left. With the amount I am out of the office I desperately needed a secretary I could rely on and my failure to find a replacement one almost cost me my business. Then one Sunday lunch I was moaning to my family about it and my grandmother cut across what I was saying and called me prejudiced. At first I was annoyed but then I listened. I was young and naïve and so determined not to be prejudiced that I had overlooked what she was saying – namely that she had been one of the most senior secretaries at my grandfather's legal firm for many years before the employment law forced her to retire because of her age. Shortly before that Sunday lunch the law had changed. She called me out on the prejudice I showed when I failed to offer her a job."

"So you offered her a job there and then?" Casey asked.

Bea shook her head. "Nope. I told her to submit a resume and I be in touch with an interview time."  
"You _interviewed_ your grandmother?" Casey gasped.

"Hell yes! She was right in that I had been wrong to not consider her. _She_ was wrong to assume that I would just give her the job. Of course her resume was perfect, she interviewed really well so I gave her the job. Now we're both happy. How old do you think she is?" Bea asked.

Casey thought for a moment. "69?"

Bea chuckled. "Oh she'd love you. She's 77."

"Wow!"

"Gamma has an assistant these days who she is training up to continue after her because we both know this can't last forever, but she swears this is keeping her young. She's very protective of me."

"She's a good cook too." Casey said, taking some food onto the offered plate.

"She is. It was her idea to keep this sort of format: small and non-messy items so that it doesn't stop the flow of conversation."

Casey nodded.

"Now! Let's get back to _complicated_. I want you to start at the very beginning. How did you get your job?"  
Casey shook her head. "That's not the very beginning." She objected. "Erm… Bea…As my lawyer, you're sworn to secrecy, right?"  
"Yes. Why?"

"Because in order to tell you about my job, I need to tell you about why I'm in Ottawa."

"Okay…"  
"And that information is…sensitive."

"Painful?"  
"No. _Classified_ sensitive." Casey said and launched into the tale of Derek's death and subsequent events.

Bea made notes and listened without comment until just before Casey got to the part where Steven got her the interview in Ottawa.

"So you came to Ottawa for a vacation, found Derek again and decided to stay."

Casey nodded. "Eventually. There was a bit more to it. But yes, I'd lost him and found him again. Think about it, if you lost someone you loved dearly and then had a chance to have them back in your life in some capacity wouldn't you be prepared to route your entire life around their's?"

There was a long pause.

"Not everyone is as lucky as you are Casey. Derek still wanted you." Bea's voice was bleak.

With a sinking feeling, Casey realise she had accidently hit the nail on Jazz's head.

"Jazz?" She asked quietly.

Bea nodded and then coughed and pulled herself together.

"All water under the bridge." She said in a tone that said it wasn't but that it was too painful to go on about. Casey took the hint and carried on with her own tale.

"I came to Ottawa because "Mikey" lived here and I was curious about the city. I stayed here because I was offered a job at the hospital and it gave me the opportunity to be close to Derek."

Bea made another small note. "And you lived…?"  
"With Derek." Casey said. "I continued to sleep in his bed – completely innocently – and started work at the hospital."  
"And it was Robin who approached you about the job?"  
"Yes. I'd wanted information on Jazz's condition and Steven, a friend from London, called in a favour to get me a tour of the hospital."

Casey expected some questioning about the "favour", what she didn't expect was Bea sitting forward suddenly.

"What about _"Jazz's condition"_?" she demanded, her eagerness to know making her fore-go the usual Jazz/Jason conflict.

"When he was in ICU." Casey explained as if it was obvious. Bea's eyes widened in panic.

"He was in ICU?" She gasped.

Casey nodded.

"I thought you knew." She said.

Bea shook her head. "We only talk if we absolutely have to. And our families don't talk to each other at all." There was sadness there again. "What happened?"

Casey explained about Jazz getting shot in the leg and how it was touch and go for a while. She told the girl before her about the severity of the injury and how he still used a stick most days and that he would probably need physiotherapy of some description for a very long time to come.

When Casey had finished, there were two wet tracks running down Bea's cheeks.

"I never knew." She whispered.

"I'm sorry." Casey said.

Eventually, when the moment had passed they moved on and completed the interview. Casey was surprised at how relaxed she felt in Bea's company. She had not intended to share as much information with her new lawyer as she had. Instead of quoting just facts, Casey had talked a lot about how she had felt at the time. She put it down to the time they had spent together the previous evening – and the fact they clearly both knew what it meant to love and lose.

Bea nodded occasionally at Casey's explanations for her actions.

"They will try to make out that you either wanted to punish Derek or that you were really after Robin." She informed Casey.

Casey snorted. "That's just ridiculous. When I said I don't look at men I meant that I had no desire to look at anyone else. I love Derek. I have loved him for a very long time. I went out that night because Robin had been nagging me for a long time, promising to give me some good career advice. Yes it got me out of the house in the middle of an argument with Derek, but we had been arguing for several days and I didn't run straight to Robin. I decided to go to the dinner to get him off my back. I wasn't in the mood for the meal before I went and I certainly wasn't in the mood by the end of it. He kept making snide comments about "Mikey". It irritated me so I wanted to leave early."

"He knew about Derek?"  
"Not exactly. "Mikey" or rather "Derek" was always hanging around the hospital. It was obvious there was something going on between us. And then the first time that Robin suggested dinner – to discuss my job offer, I insisted on Derek coming too."  
Bea looked stunned. "Let me get this straight. You, Derek and Robin had dinner together?"

"Yes."

"At your insistence?"

"Actually it was at Derek's insistence and I was more than happy about it. He was nervous after the whole Papillion thing and he wasn't ready to let me out of his sight." She smiled. "Bless him. So he invited himself along."

"Okay. That's good. Taking a chaperone with you is good. It's a shame that you and Derek weren't talking or you could have taken Derek with you on the second occasion."

Casey shook her head. "No. Robin was adamant that it should be just the two of us."

Bea cocked an eyebrow. "Really? That's interesting. Now, who came close to you while you were eating? Who might have over heard your conversation?"

"Only the waiter." Casey sighed. And the Maitre d' will have heard me initially declining Robin's offer of coffee but how on earth would he remember me? He must have seen dozens of people since then."

"It's worth asking though." Bea said. "Someone might have been watching."

"The really stupid thing is that someone was supposed to be watching me. I've got a permanent protection detail following my every move." Casey said.

Bea looked interested. "And?"  
"And they saw nothing. Derek checked. In fact he went ballistic because they were still parking the car when the incident happened in the coffee bar."

"Parking can take a while." Bea shrugged.

"Bea, the restaurant and the coffee shop are walking distance from each other. They couldn't park because they decided to _drive_ between the two places rather than walk the way we did. That's what has Derek pissed."

There was a knock at the door and Gamma poked her head in.

"Are you ready for me to clear?" She asked. Casey looked down at her plate in surprise. Yes, she really had eaten everything on her plate!

"Thanks Gamma!" Bea smiled up at her secretary. "Gamma, this is Casey. She's a friend of Jason's."

A frown crossed "Gamma's" face and Bea smiled sadly.

"Not that sort of friend. She's more a friend of Jason's co-worker."

The frown cleared and Gamma's once again smiled at Casey.

Almost immediately the frown returned. "Did _he_ contact you?" Gamma asked Bea pointedly. Casey was slightly surprised at the tone which was more parental than subordinate. Clearly Gamma didn't hold back with her granddaughter/employer.

Bea sighed. "Yes Gamma."

"I thought you decided you weren't going to have anything to do with him?" Gamma pointed out.

"It's not that easy Gamma." Bea tried to explain.

Gamma nodded. "I see. You two are going to spend the rest of your lives chipping little bits out of each other aren't you? Well, I've said enough on the subject. You know my feelings and…"

Bea appeared surprised that her grandmother was willing to discuss her boss'private life in front of an almost stranger.

"Gamma…Casey is a _client_."

The elder woman suddenly looked horrified. "I'm so sorry, Dr McDonald." She said and quickly whipped the last items onto her trolley and took herself off.

"Sorry." Bea apologised. "Gamma is normally really professional but Jason has always been a sore point with her. Well, for the last ten years at least."

Casey sat forward.

"Bea, forgive me. I know it's none of my business but I like you and I think we could be friends. As your friend I've noticed that you've come so close to breaking down so many times in the short time I've known you. Derek would say that I inspire that sort of reaction in people so I really hope I haven't offended you today. I just want to say that…"

"It's not you, Casey. It's Jason."

Casey nodded. "Just what exactly is he to you, Bea?"

Bea was quiet for a moment.

"He's my ex-fiance." She replied.


	18. Romance and All That

"Hallelujah! Now you've stopped pissing about on the job, maybe we can get some fucking work done around here."

Jazz's angry tones cut across Derek's good mood as soon as he walked back into the office after saying goodbye to Casey. He had climbed into the car with her and let her drive him around the block a couple of times (literally!) before he let her go off to meet Bea. It had allowed him to see how she could handle the car – and meant that he got to say goodbye to her in peace and away from prying CCTV. It had been a long goodbye and intense, consequently, Derek was in a fantastic mood – even if Jazz wasn't.

Jazz's anger was uncalled for, however, because Derek had been gone just forty minutes - prior to which he had been in the office since 8am. In contrast, when Derek left to take Casey down to the underground garage, Jazz had yet to make an appearance.

Derek scowled at him. "What the fuck? This from a guy who only just got here?" he reminded his friend. "What's eating you?" He had a pretty good idea.  
But Jazz didn't relent. "I had places to be this morning. I don't have time to waste arguing and mud-slinging with the girl I should be married to the way you seem to think you can."

Derek shrugged. "I wasn't arguing with Casey. I was demonstrating the new car to her. And I've been here three hours already this morning." He frowned. "What places? What things to do?"

Jazz didn't answer. The reality was he had been nursing the hangover from hell in his bathroom at home.

After they had left Bea the previous night, he had gone onto a club to try and drown himself in alcohol and ass. The alcohol he had managed. The ass had been harder. Every time he looked at something female her features had rearranged themselves into Bea's patented pissed off look. Correction: Bea's _passion-killing_, patented pissed off look. Consequently he had fallen into bed, alcohol saturating his system, and two deep aches: one south of his belt, the other rather more central to his core.

The remembrance of the previous night must have clouded Jazz's face, because Derek eased up on him.

"Jazz. You look like shit. Lose the attitude, grab a coffee and we'll go over the report on that bank heist." Derek offered an olive branch as he walked around to take a seat at his desk.

Jazz shook his head, but when he spoke his tone was more measured.

"We don't have time. One of those items off the Blackwell robbery came up."

Derek swivelled his head quickly, to regard him. This was definitely good news. The Blackwell robbery was a major home invasion they had been waiting for a break on for six months.

"What did we get?" He asked eagerly.  
"Hock shop called in with an ID on one of those piss-ugly toby jug things."

Derek nodded. "Which one?"  
"The one that was supposed to be Richard III but looks more like Celine Dion got put up the spout by Barry Manilow."

His friend chuckled and glanced at Jazz who looked away quickly trying to hide the tiny slither of amusement which had cracked his god-awful mood.

"We sent anyone down there?" Derek asked. Jazz shook his head.

"Nah. I thought _we_ could deal with it. You know what this lot's like; can't tell their Wedgewood from their Wordsworth."

Derek shook his head as he pulled his gun from his desk drawer and began strapping it on. "You know _Jason_. I'm beginning to think you are far more educated than you would have us believe."

Jazz shook his head. "Nope. I just got hot and heavy with an antiques chick once. Nice girl, shame about the dust." He smirked.

"I always knew you went for the grandmas."  
"Not "antique chick" you fucker, an _antiques_ chick. Like on that programme from the TV…" and they made their way to the car bickering softly.

* * *

The "hock shop" concerned was a small independent store rather than one of the big chain pawn shops and it was off the beaten track. That gave Derek plenty of driving time to try and get the bottom of Jazz's blow out this morning. He didn't waste time asking what was wrong because even if he wasn't as intuitive as his nosy girlfriend, the tension the previous evening had been such that even Derek had got the message bouncing back and forth between his friend and the mysterious Bea.

"Bea seems…"

"Whoa!" Jazz shot back. "Seriously? You're channelling Casey now?"

Derek snorted. "Jazz. I don't need to be a meddling romantic to know that what crawled up your ass last night was female, short and dark-haired with an unhealthy interest in British rock bands."

"Hey! What's unhealthy about Muse?"

Derek looked at him. "Nothing until they started writing crap for lame chick flicks."

Jazz shook his head. "Hmmm…okay, maybe you have a point."

Derek smiled. Jazz turned his head away but Derek heard him mutter.

"A point about the music, not that cold-hearted bitch from hell."

Derek frowned. "She seemed nice enough to me."

"That's coz she didn't jilt your ass." Jazz pointed out quietly.

"She…you…what?" Derek gasped.

Jazz was a good friend and in the short time since the Papillion case he and Derek had become even better friends and shared some of their life stories. In the even shorter time since Jazz had found out about Derek's true identity, Derek had even begun to talk a little about more specific things. He thought Jazz had been pretty honest with him, sharing details about his childhood and up-bringing.

He had never mentioned anything about being engaged.

Derek found it really hard to believe. Jazz was just so straight-forward when it came to relationships – he didn't have them. He respected women – they always knew that the hook-ups weren't going anywhere- but he just wasn't interested in the whole hearts and roses thing. Derek didn't consider himself to be particularly sappy, but even he thought Jazz was peculiarly detached when it came to relationships. It just didn't make sense that he had once been engaged.

Derek glanced at his friend as he drove.

Or maybe it made perfect sense.

"She broke your heart." Derek said softly.

Jazz laughed a loud but humourless bellow.

"I don't have a heart, Venturi. Not anymore." He took a deep breath. "Dude, we're friends you and I, okay? So I'm going to ask nicely. Drop it. It isn't up for discussion."

Startled, Derek nodded. "Sure."

And the rest of the journey passed in silence.

* * *

The pawn shop was one of those Aladdin's caves of items, stuffed floor to ceiling, making a mockery of the adage that one person's junk is another person's treasure. Junk is just junk. Trash is just trash. Sometimes the two terms are synonymous.

The proprietor was a tiny wizened old man who looked as though he was short-sighted; a fact that was confirmed when he misread their warrant cards as Dirk and Mason. When he disappeared into the back of the shop to retrieve the toby jug, Jazz whispered to Derek that it was a miracle the guy had ever managed to identify the jug at all. Derek made a passing comment that clearly the protruding nose was too big for even this guy to miss.

The short-sightedness didn't help the guy's ability to find the toby jug in the mess at the back of the shop and they were left to wander the small space with its mis-match of tables, bureaus and tallboys for some time. There was so much junk in the place that the tallboy's drawers were pulled open and items had been stuffed inside; a big jumble of costume jewellery, broken watches and those little silver bottle stops you get from high-end Christmas Crackers – but never know when to use.

Jazz was not one to resist touching things and he plunged his hand in an open drawer and rummaged around.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, slightly embarrassed by his friend's behaviour.

"Have you seen all the crap in here?" Jazz asked. "Shit! It's like a hundred years worth of Christmas throw-outs."

"I guess some people have to hock even the contents of their odds and ends drawers." Derek said sadly.

"Weird though."

"I guess."

The proprietor made some sort of noise out the back of the shop and Jazz jammed the handful of junk back into its drawer in a hurry. Something pinged across the room, and rolling his eyes at Jazz, Derek darted after it. The tiny item had come to rest against the foot pedal of a tatty old upright piano that was missing half of its keys. Derek bent down to pick it up.

It was a small silver ring, tarnished so badly it looked almost golden in colour, its large glass stone so grubby you could barely see its colour.

Almost.

Derek picked the ring up and stared at it. He chuckled.

"What?"

"It's Casey's ring!" He laughed.

Jazz snorted. "Casey's what?"

Derek grinned and walked over to the light. "Casey's dream ring." He glanced up at Jazz and saw the look on his friends face – he couldn't blame him. He thought the idea was insane too.

"When we first met, when Casey and I were fifteen, she was a bit of a romance geek."

Jazz coughed. "When you were fifteen? Dude. You seriously think she's outgrown that? I mean I've met the woman and girls like that? They never lose the romance geek from their psyche. She probably dreamed in Barbie pink for her youth, ditched it for "Amethyst" in her pre-teens, chose "lilac" for her teenage years and "purple" for her goth phase."

"Goth phase?"

"Hmm…yeah you're right. With Casey it will have been her "mildly rebellious, stay out fifteen minutes past curfew, tell mom she's being "unreasonable"" phase."

Derek stared at him. "Did you eavesdrop on my teenage years?"

They both laughed.

"I'm right about the romance geek though?"

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, she had this "vision" of her ideal ring: white gold with a massive pink diamond. She used to draw pictures of it in her journal."

"You read her journal?"  
Derek looked at him. "Duh? We were fifteen. I went through everything of hers on a daily basis while she was at those dance classes of hers. Blackmail was how I supported myself through high school…well, blackmail and a certain entrepreneurial flair."

Jazz laughed. "And?"  
"And this ring is what she drew."

"I'm assuming you mean without all the crap on it?"  
Derek nodded. "Yeah." He smiled indulgently. "I wonder if this stuff comes off."

Jazz leaned over to look. "Yeah it does. You can buy these pots of chemical gunk to dip it in at most jewellers."

"How the fuck do you know that?"  
Jazz shrugged. "My grandma liked costume jewellery. Stick it back in the drawer Derek. Buying girls jewellery…even when it's cheap metal and plastic…it's a slippery slope. Particularly if you aren't even dating them."

"You think I should buy it?" Derek asked distractedly.

"No. I said you shouldn't."  
"Okay. I'll ask the guy when he comes back." Derek ignored his friend. Jazz shook his head in disbelief.

The proprietor arrived a few minutes later and the business of the toby jug was soon sorted out. Jazz took custody of the item and gave the proprietor a receipt. He turned to leave to find that Derek was holding out the dirty ring.

"This up for sale?" Derek asked.

The proprietor squinted.

"Yes…" he replied, surprised and doing a poor job of hiding the fact that he thought it was junk but would clearly accept the maximum price that he could get Derek to pay.

"How much?"

"$100." The old guy stated.

Derek snorted. "It's a piece of crap."  
"You want it, it's $100."

"Why?"  
"What?"

"Why $100?"

"It's silver and semi-precious stones."

"It's silver-plate and glass." Derek replied. "$20"

"$75" The other man fired back, losing his frailty in his eagerness.

"It's disgustingly dirty." Derek said. "$30"

"$65"

"$50"

"Done."

* * *

Back in the car, clutching his prize Derek grinned at Jazz who rolled his eyes.

"He saw you coming."  
Derek shook his head. "Casey will love this."  
Jazz tilted his head. "Enough to get you laid?"  
It was Derek's turn to roll his eyes. "Not everything is about sex."

"Seriously Derek, what else is there?"

Derek sighed. "She did that good a number on you?"

Jazz rubbed at his stubbly chin with his hand. "Yeah. She did."

They were quiet for several minutes and Derek swore there was an unusual glassy look to his friend's eyes.

And then Jazz surprised Derek by diverting them from the expected route back to the office and pulled up at the nearest coffee house. Derek frowned.

"Come on." Jazz said, getting out of the car and then leaning back in. "You wanna know the sad ballad of Jason and Beatrice? This is a one time deal."

Derek was out of the car like a shot.

Later, when they were once again heading back to the office Jazz broke the silence.

"You see now why I keep telling you not to screw things up with Casey?"  
Derek nodded. "I'm not screwing things up with Casey. We have a healthy relationship."

Jazz groaned. "You call that bed-sharing, argumentative rapport "healthy"?"

Derek nodded. "It works for us." He said with a smirk. "Besides, this morning, when I was out of the office for forty minutes?"

Jazz nodded.

"The car wasn't the only thing I was test-driving."


	19. Negotiation

He'd known Casey McDonald for something like thirteen years – or was it fourteen? Regardless, Derek considered himself an aficionado when it came to her moods. It didn't take him long that evening to work out that she was pissed off.

Mind you, the force with which she slammed the front door closed behind her when she arrived home was a definite sign that even a person meeting Casey for the first time would have been able to interpret!

Derek sighed. Was he seriously the only person on the planet who was happy right now? What with Jazz and his foul mood…

And surely shouldn't Casey be somewhere as close to euphoric as Derek since it was her fault he was hovering on a permanent state of bliss? When he had said goodbye to her before lunch she had certainly seemed happy. Her eyes had sparkled and she was a bit giggly, signs that he engendered in her the same joyous feelings she brought to him.

"Okay." He started as soon as she arrived in the kitchen and slapped her purse down on the work surface. "What did I do?"

Casey glanced up from taking off her heels as though she was distracted. "What?"

There was a pause and then she looked towards the entrance hall and realised how she had arrived.

"Sorry." She apologised and leaned towards him to peck him on the cheek. "It's not you. I'm just frustrated at the audacity of some men."  
Relieved by her words, Derek wasn't having any of this "peck on cheek" business or her preoccupation with any thoughts of other men as soon as they were reunited after so many hours in a day. He caught her around the waist so that he could attack her mouth and the pair of pumps clattered to the floor as Casey allowed herself to get lost in the deep kiss.

"Me." Derek insisted. "Not _some men_, think about me! I've not seen you since before lunch and you left me half-hanging then."

"The ego has spoken." Casey grinned and leaned into him for another deep kiss.

"Too right!" Derek replied, his eyes mirroring the excitement in her own. "Bed. Now. The only man I want on your mind is the one who is currently _frustrated_ in front of you."

"I've only just got home." Casey said in a half-hearted attempt at resistance. "Don't I even get chance to grab a shower and change my clothes?"  
"You can shower later." He said, already assisting with the clothes removal process. "And there is absolutely no requirement for clothes for the next hour or so."

"Der-ek!" She giggled as he backed her towards the bedroom, her bad mood disappearing completely.

As Casey allowed Derek to walk her to bed, she wondered how long it would be like this – the playful need for each other. Very little had changed between them since she had moved in with him; they still argued, although unlike their exchanges as teenagers this was more in the way of banter than bicker. Neither was the companionship and affection new with the dawn of their sexual relationship.

In fact really the only difference in the way they treated each other was that they didn't have to hold back anymore. The affection had boiled over into physical need.

Casey knew none of this was new. All that had changed was the ability to act on their feelings.

Frequently.

She hoped it was a sign that this was a lasting relationship.

* * *

"Are you always going to pounce on me as soon as I walk through the door?" Casey asked a while later, shifting her head on the pillow to look at the man lying naked beside her. He grinned. They were both rather pink from exertion.

"Nope."

She raised an eyebrow as he continued.

"Sometimes you'll get home before me…then it will be your turn."  
Casey shook her head in mock despair. "What am I going to do with you?"  
"Another round would be good."

Derek thought he'd just throw that one out there just in case her thoughts were in close proximity to his own.  
"And lead to a delay in me feeding you?" Casey pointed out trying to avoid his distraction.

Derek looked conflicted. "Hmmm…note to self to snack before I attack." He chuckled and then dived into her neck again. "Preferably, snack on the girlfriend."  
Casey batted at him. "Anyone would think you hadn't had sex for seven years." She said rolling her eyes. "Rather than seven hours."

"They were seven tortuous hours." He confirmed. "Plus I'm making up for a long drought before I finally caught you. You're a lot better at it than I thought you'd be. I'm impressed…and addicted." He pulled back and grinned.

"You're an animal." Casey said honestly.

"You're beautiful. I can't help it." Equally honestly.

"We need to eat Derek." Casey reminded him…_ what?_

"Why?" Derek asked as though food came very far down the list of priorities for him.  
Casey chuckled. "I never thought I'd see the day that you turned down food."

"Me either. But now it's here, let's make the most of it." He replied with a smirk.  
"Der-ek!"

He laughed and pecked her on the nose. Then his expression became serious. "I love you." Derek said suddenly.

"For my carnal ability?"  
"No."

"Because I give you hours of amusement with my manic behaviour?" Casey anticipated.

"Close." He smirked.

"I give up." Casey sighed.

Derek stroked the slightly damp hair from her face. "Because you make me feel like a teenager again."  
Casey narrowed her eyes at him. "Am I supposed to feel complimented or offended by that?"

"You make me forget the last seven years my love and that is no mean feat." He whispered. "You heal wounds I didn't even know I had. Yes, sometimes it is unintentional - when you do some thing klutzy or I remember the crap we got up to when we fought, but mostly it's the way you look at me or just do stuff for me, like leaving a bowl on the breakfast bar for my cereal, or moving my damp towel to the heated rail or…fuck! I sound like a sap!"

Casey smiled softly. "My sap." She whispered. "I love you too."

They did get out of bed then, although neither of them was in a hurry to get dressed, so they pulled on PJs and retired to the kitchen to find food.

"I take it the "some men" you were pissed off with when you got home referred to Robin?" Derek said as Casey fished a cottage pie from the freezer to heat up.

"No, actually. It was that asshole of a partner of yours."

Derek frowned. "I thought you liked Jazz."

"Yeah. So did I before I realised what a manwhore he was."  
"I'm sorry…did you just say "manwhore"?"

"Yes. Why? Do you disagree?" Casey curved an eyebrow.

Derek shook his head. "Not exactly although it is a little harsh. I'm just surprised to hear _you_ use a term like that."  
"A little harsh? Derek the guy couldn't keep it in his pants if he superglued his zipper!"

"Now wait a second. Jazz has lots of girlfriends but he's not _that_ bad. The girls he goes with know what the score is and he always wraps it. It's not particularly romantic but no one gets hurt."

Casey stopped what she was doing and stared at him. "No one gets hurt? No one gets hurt? Seriously? Pah!"

Derek frown deepened. "Yeah. No one gets hurt. He's not in a relationship. He doesn't do relationships."

"That's patently obvious." Casey snarked back.

Derek put his hand on her arm. "Casey, back off, okay? The guy's my friend and I've known him a long time."  
"Not long enough." Casey stated.

Her boyfriend paused wondering where this vitriol towards Jazz had come from. He thought back to Casey's plans for the day and then it became clear.

"Just what the hell did Beatrice say to you anyway?"

Casey's mood improved dramatically. "_Bea_ was very helpful actually. I really like her. She has some good ideas about how we can argue against my suspension. She's going to sort some character references out for me and investigate a few lines of enquiry to see if Robin has done this before."

Derek nodded. "That sounds great. I want to hear about it at length…_after_ you tell me what _Bea_ said about Jazz."

Casey's sudden happy mood evaporated. "She told me what a complete bastard he was to her. Did you know they were engaged?"

If Casey expected that to be a shock she was disappointed.

"Yes actually I did. He told me."

Casey folded her arms and looked smug.

Derek sighed, sensing a fight coming on. "He also told me what a complete _bitch_ Beatrice was to him."

"Bea is not a bitch! She's a really nice girl."

"She was nice to you, because she wants your business."

"That's crap! She's a lovely girl and a fantastic lawyer – even Jazz agrees with that last statement. She has this amazing grandmother who's her secretary and she calls her Gamma."

"Her grandmother calls Bea "Gamma"?"

"No! Bea calls her grandmother "Gamma". She's nearly eighty but as sprightly as anything and fiercely protected of Bea. You should hear her on the subject of Jazz!"

"Oh I'm sure Bea has shared with "Gamma" her own little bedtime story."

"He hurt her, Derek. "Gamma" rightly didn't like that."

"He hurt _her_? Make that, _she_ jilted him, Casey!"

"She didn't jilt him Derek."

"He showed me the ring, Casey! It had a massive dent in it where she threw it at him."

"The dent was because it flew into the road and got run over by a car, not because she threw it hard. It slipped out of her hand as she was trying to give it back to him."

Derek's eyes widened in triumph.

"…because she was jilting him."

"He…" [pause for a whisper] "_screwed_ her roommate!"

"No he didn't."

"Bea says he did."

"Well Bea is telling you lies."  
"She doesn't lie, Derek." Casey insisted.

He snorted. "Of course she lies Casey. Everyone does – even you…okay…you tell little white ones so tiny they are invisible to the naked eye, but the more normal of us…we lie! Big fat juicy ones."

"Do you lie to me?" Casey asked with mock casualness.  
"All the fucking time!" Derek said to prove a point, and then he watched her face fall. "I mean…I don't lie to you about the important stuff. I just lie to…"  
Casey folded her arms. "…to get me to go to bed with you."

"No, Casey! Don't start this." He stepped close to her and put his hands on her hips. "I don't lie to you about _us_. I'm too scared I'll lose you. I lie to you about whether I remembered to pick up the milk, whether I had a burger at lunch time, occasionally I lie about my alone time in the shower. I do _not_ lie about loving you. I do not lie about wanting you in my life. I do not lie about moving heaven and earth for you. I mean all that. It's just sometimes I don't feel like eating healthily, or sometimes I forget the groceries and sometimes I like to…do stuff in the shower that girlfriends really don't want to know about…despite what all that shite romance stuff you occasionally read tells you."

Her mouth twitched up slightly. "Did you just admit to…?" She asked, blushing.

"Yeah. I guess I did. See…I will do anything to keep you."

Derek took a breath as a pause and pulled Casey into his arms. "Why are we arguing about someone else's break up?"  
She slumped against him.

"I don't know." Casey looked up at him, her arms weaving around his waist. "Maybe neither of them was telling us the whole truth."

Derek pressed his mouth against hers for a moment.

"What did Bea say to you? I promise not to over-react."  
Casey pulled back and sat down at the breakfast bar.

"She said that they were childhood sweethearts who made it all the way through high school as a couple. Everyone expected them to get married and have kids. She said that they even went to college together, got engaged in their first year and seemed on course to spend the rest of their lives together."

Derek nodded. "Jazz says the same. It's weird he got this faraway look in his eyes and became this whole other person when he was talking about it. Now there was a sap!"

"Bea talked for a good fifteen minutes about the lead up to their engagement. She got this spark in her eyes too. It was cute."

"What did she say about the break up?"  
Casey took a deep breath. "That it shouldn't have been a break up. That she thought she knew Jazz well enough that it wouldn't be the end of them. They had planned to settle down in Ottawa together but that she said that she did really well at college and got offered a place at Harvard reading Law. Jazz didn't want her to go."

"Jazz said she told him she was going rather than discussed it with him."  
"Bea says she tried to discuss it with him but he over-reacted and told her if she wanted to go to Harvard it would be the end of their engagement."

"Jazz says they had even started talking wedding dates and then the next thing he knows she was leaving for another country."

"Bea says he didn't want her to succeed, he saw her as his wife and not as an equal partner."

"Jazz says she didn't give him chance to get used to the idea. The next thing he knows she is refusing to see him, and her roommate won't let him in the door.  
"Bea says he never even tried to speak to her."

Derek glanced at Casey.

"That's not…"

Casey interrupted. "Bea said that her roommate confessed to having a drunken romp with him the following night."

"Jazz says he spent the night on a park bench. I believe him. The guy was almost in tears."

Casey was thoughtful. "What does Jazz say happened next?"  
"He managed to get to see her but she threw the ring at him. When he picked it up it was buckled and shapeless. The next thing he knew she'd moved to Cambridge and was being an ice queen, refusing all contact with him and his friends."

"So he decided to be a manwhore."

"Casey..." Derek warned.

"Derek…" She protested.

They paused.

Casey sighed. "Bea was distraught. She thought he'd betrayed her so she shut herself down. She hasn't had a relationship since. She threw herself into her work and ignored the rest of her life."

"Like you." Derek said, knowing what the post-Derek years had been like for his step-sister.

"And Jazz…?"

"He took her accusations personally. He did nothing for almost eighteen months but when he realised that she wasn't coming back, that it really was over, he decided to be what she'd already written him off as…"  
"He started sleeping around?"  
"That implies he was reckless…he wasn't. But yes. He decided that if Bea thought he was having lots of casual sex, and couldn't be faithful…that's what he'd do. Jesus! This sounds like one of _our_ arguments!"

Casey laughed sadly.

"Do you want to bang their heads together or shall I?"  
"How about I hold one down and you wield the other?"

Casey stepped into the enclosure and security of Derek's arms.

"They both got it wrong, didn't they?"

"Yup. Helped along with a roommate with a hidden agenda."

"How sad!" She said, nuzzling close to him.

"Very."

"Promise me we'll never argue like that again."

"I promise."

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds of each other's breathing and their own hearts beating.

Before long the breathing and beating were in sync.

"What are we going to do about it?" Casey murmured against his neck.

"It's our responsibility to do something about it because…?" Derek asked, kissing the top of her head affectionately.

"Because you love me, and we both care about Jazz and Bea." She said as though it was obvious, unconsciously rubbing her body against his.

"They won't like us interfering." He warned.

"It's not interfering. It's us needing a night out and inviting them to join us."

"Casey…" Derek cautioned.

"Come on, Derek. Aren't you sick of him moping?"

"Yes. But that doesn't mean I like the idea of suicide."

"Don't be afraid, D. I'll protect you." Casey promised.

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"With your body?" He asked hopefully pointed rubbing Casey's body again.

"Of course not. Although if I thought I had your full support in all my endeavours there would be a reward package."

"Reward package?"

"Certain benefits would be on offer."

Derek smirked and pulled her tighter. "Is this an "on completion" kind of deal or do the benefits kick in sooner?"

"Well, I'd rather like to eat that cottage pie but after that, I'm open to negotiation." Casey promised.

"Okay. You have a deal. Only Casey?"  
"Derek?"

"Does that pie have to go in the oven or can it be cooked in the microwave? I'm starving!"


	20. Bored and Board

The next few weeks whizzed by in a blur. Derek found himself drawn into a major operation relating to the home invasion case so he was barely home – and barely in the office.

…unlike Casey who, at his suggestion and in the absence of her normal job, started going to Derek's office every day. She sat at his desk working her way through his case file, familiarising herself with the details of his life, his death and his second life. There might also have been a degree of desk _tidying_ going on, but she knew Derek and she knew his limits so her interference in his "filing system" wasn't too intrusive.

While she was in the office, she saw very little of Derek. There were several surveillance details in progress and there was bare minimum staff in the department because everyone else was out and about. The staff that was around treated Casey well, and they traded coffees and anecdotes. Casey felt welcomed and Derek didn't mind her being around when he wasn't. It was reassuring to know that she was safe in the office surrounded by his colleagues. It worked well for both of them.

Casey did leave the building for meetings with Bea and on a couple of occasions Rosita. Casey's lawyer was working hard on the suspension appeal. She had people looking for witnesses, previous victims and character references. She told Casey that something would give somewhere and Casey believed her. Men like Robin are like that all their lives not just when they reach seniority.

There wasn't actually much need for Casey and Bea to meet as often as they did, but a friendship was growing between them. As Gamma noted quietly to herself, Casey's presence had brought Bea out of herself slightly. It was good to see her granddaughter laughing again.

Bea was also good for Casey. She gave the latter her second female friend in the new city - and time apart from Derek without being lonely. You can have too much of a good thing sometimes and despite his long working hours, Casey _did _see Derek at some point; times during which little was actually _said_ but the bond between them was definitely strengthened!

After their realisation of the truth of their friends' sad past, Derek and Casey said nothing to Bea and Jazz about their failed relationship. This was partly a conscious decision, but also given Derek and Jazz's preoccupied states, there was little time for heart-to-heart chats. Derek made Casey promise not to meddle in their friends' lives, and she did concur. He in turn promised that when things calmed down, he would broach the subject carefully with Jazz.

They were both convinced that their friends had been robbed of a chance at happiness – and that both still felt something for the other.

Derek suggested to Casey that the extent of their interference should be to encourage the two to spend more time together – and let nature take its course rather than something more dramatic.

Casey understood his reasoning and she largely followed his advice, but she also felt like she couldn't ignore the matter whenever Bea brought it up. And once in a while – normally over a bottle of wine, Casey's newest friend did indeed allude to her former fiancé.

At first the comments were cold and harsh. Casey, unlike the few people Bea had discussed it with in the past, did not immediately agree with Jazz's ex. This surprised Bea. She was used to the reactions of her immediate family who had heard only her side of the tale and made assumptions accordingly. When she had mentioned it before, the audience had nodded sagely and bemoaned the duplicitous nature of man.

But Casey didn't.

She didn't leap to Jazz's defence either, which would have made an enemy of her new acquaintance. Instead, she sighed sadly and changed the subject, talking instead about horrible roommates she had heard tales of: people with equally duplicitous characters who charmed and befriended and then stole when out of sight. And for the first time, Bea started to see that her former college friend and roommate shared some of the blame – if the story was true at all.

Because Bea gradually worked out that Casey wasn't taking sides for some reason she found herself trying to convince her new friend of her opinion. Ever the lawyer, she presented evidence, digging into the past and reliving memories she hadn't dared let surface for many years. The strange thing was her mind, now honed over her career to weigh circumstances from all angles, looked back on certain memories with a fresh eye. Finding evidence to convince Casey of Jazz's guilt was much harder than Bea would have expected.

As the weeks passed, Casey did learn more about the past. She also learnt more about the present. Bea still cared about Jazz a great deal. But rectifying a wrong was not going to be easy, because she had had her heart battered and bruised, if not by Jazz directly, by the felonious friend.

* * *

The new relationship between Casey and Derek had been continuing apace for six weeks when unexpectedly the former received an excited call from Bea.

"I've got the bugger!" She shouted down the phone. "I've got the stupid ass-hole!"

Casey frowned and glanced across the office to where Derek and Jazz were standing talking.

"Are we talking Jazz or Robin?" She asked cautiously.

Bea snorted. "You think I'd phone you in great delight because I'd found more evidence against Jason? I wouldn't do that!" She protested.

There was a moment's pause. "Okay. Maybe you're right and I would…but no. I'm talking about Robin."

"Oh?"

"I've contacted the hospital board and requested that we be allowed to speak at their next meeting."  
"You did _what_?" Casey asked. "Why? My hearing was supposed to be in front of a disciplinary sub-committee, not the full board."

Bea shrugged to herself. "Sure, but let's face it, Guillotine girl is only going to draw on her friends to form that sub-committee. What you need is an unbiased opinion and you'll only get that from the full board."

"She owns most of them too." Casey pointed out, ignoring the silly nickname they had adopted for Marie Anton. "At least if I'm in front of the sub-committee there will only be four people to witness my humiliation rather than fifteen."

Bea snorted again. "O ye of little faith. Trust me, I'm a lawyer!"

"Ha ha!"

"Look, can you be there tomorrow or not?"

"_Tomorrow?_" Casey screeched. Derek turned abruptly to look at her. He saw her frantic running of her hand through her hair and was at her side in an instant. Casey glanced up and used her clarification to Bea to inform Derek of what was going on.

"I can't stand up in front of the Board tomorrow. You haven't briefed me."  
Derek's eyes widened. He exchanged a glance with Jazz.

"I'm briefing you now. Turn up tomorrow, four pm, smart tailored suit, hair up and wear your white coat. Oh and keep your mouth shut."

"What's the plan of action?" Casey asked.

"You stand beside me and look attractive but competent." Bea replied. "And the only words I want to hear you utter are "Thank you" when the Board clears you of all charges."

"Are you that confident?" Casey asked.

"Of course not. Only a fool is confident when it comes to power struggles."

"This has nothing to do with a power struggle." Casey pointed out.

"This has everything to do with a power struggle, Casey." Bea noted. "You're threatening GG's handle on the Board and the guy she stalks. Fortunately, you're on the side of truth and truth will always out. Tomorrow, Marie has a few home truths coming her way."

* * *

Casey didn't sleep well that night. Derek, after consulting with Spike, ducked out of the operational duties until after Casey's hearing, so they had headed home together and he spent most of the evening trying to reassure her that Bea knew what she was doing and that Jazz's former love had no intention of throwing her new best friend to the wolves.

When that calm reassurance failed he tried to get her drunk and when that failed he tried to get her into bed.

In the end, they both settled for an early night staring at the ceiling in their bedroom, Derek holding tightly to Casey, his lips in her hair.

"Thank you." She said after an hour or two of no speech, no sex and likewise no sleep.

"For what?"

"For believing me when I said that it wasn't me, for being here, for…everything."  
Derek grinned. "For squirting you in the face with shampoo when we were fifteen? For hiding all your clothes which somehow left you needing to go to school in _mine_? For pinning your bras to the back of your coat which you then wore round school for two hours?"

Casey smiled. "Yes. Even that."

"You're crazy." He chuckled.

"What does that make you?"

"Oh I'm crazy too." He kissed her head again. "About you."

"I'm glad to hear it." She said turning to press a kiss against his mouth. They watched each other for a moment. "I'm sorry I'm so stressed about it. I'm just having a hard time thinking about this. What will I do if I lose my career? I wouldn't be able to pay my way with the apartment and bills."  
"We could work out a payment plan." Derek said wiggling his eyebrows.

"Moron." She said softly. "I'm serious."

Derek ran his fingers down the side of her neck. "I'd support you. You know that."

"I don't want to be beholden to you."

"Be-_what?_" Derek frowned.  
"Beholden. It means…"

"Casey, I know what it means. I'm disinterested in extending my vocabulary not stupid. You're my family and I support my family. And before you start in on the feminist "I'm not a weak woman" thing, you would do exactly the same for me. Hey, when we get to fifty and you're making a mint as the Surgeon General or whatever, I'll quite happily let you support me in my idle retirement."

Casey wasn't sure whether to roll her eyes, smack him on the arm or throw her arms around his neck for his calm assumption that they would still be together in twenty years time. She settled for blushing.

"Bit young for hot flushes aren't we princess?" Derek smirked. "You need one of those patches to cure that."

Casey shook her head. "They don't make anti-Derek patches."

He didn't bat an eyelid. "Shame. Guess you'll have to put up with me then."

The next day dawned bright and much too early for Casey. When she had finally dropped off the previous night, it had been far from a restful sleep. Derek's arm had been tight around her waist as though he was scared to let go of her. Sometimes she thought he had the same dread of their separation as her, but then she reminded herself that he was Derek and he didn't do that sort of emotion.

Casey ate nothing for breakfast and lunch. The only reason why she didn't pass out through hunger was Derek had slipped out first thing and returned from the grocery store carrying a packet of her favourite cookies. She might not be able to eat her usual sensible food, but her fingers did wander to the packet and when she next looked more than a third of the pack was gone…

…a fact she regretted at about 2.30pm when the rush of sugar and sweetness made her nauseous and she spent less time worrying about the outcome of the hearing than worrying that she would vomit across the conference table.

Derek watched her metaphorically climb the walls. Trying to keep her calm was like standing below her holding onto her ankles for dear life!

They arrived at the hospital half an hour early and sat in Casey's car in the parking lot.

"I love you." Derek said quietly. Casey closed her eyes.

"I love you too."

"Maybe we should have got George involved in this." Casey said.

"Don't second guess Bea now."

"I'm not. I just…he knows me!"

Derek chuckled. "Casey. You live in Ottawa with your dead step-brother, his son. I don't think Dad knows you half as well as you think he does!"

"Bea knows…about you." Casey said suddenly concerned. "I had to tell her."  
Derek shrugged. "It makes little difference now. They know where I am. It's just a question of finding out why they haven't acted yet."

"Maybe they won't."  
"Oh they will. It's personal for this guy, Sal. He doesn't like to lose. It actually makes no sense to pursue me. It's not like I can testify. Most of the key players are gone now. Just a few whose absence in life would be national news."

"This can't go on forever." Casey pointed out.

"No. I know. It's just difficult to think how it could have a positive outcome."  
Casey squeezed his hand.

"Well you've managed to get me to stop worrying about the hearing." She noted.

"Sorry." He smiled weakly. "You know me. Always fall on my feet. I'll get out of this some how." He kissed the back of her hand. "And so will you."

"Ms McDonald…" Marie Anton, as head of the hospital board, began.

Casey coughed. "Excuse me. But I believe I own the right to be addressed correctly."

Marie glared at her.

"Very well _Doctor_ McDonald, but I will not tolerate further interruptions to the proceedings. I see you have arrived without counsel." She inclined her head.

Casey hesitated. Bea had still not arrived.

"I have counsel." Casey began. "I just…"  
"Where _is_ your representation, _Doctor_ McDonald?" A rather grotesque man to Marie Anton's left interjected.

The door at the back of the room slammed opened and Bea entered. She was smartly dressed, very upright and walked with brisk efficiency.

"My apologies Madame Chair." She announced. "It appears I was not cleared by security for admittance to this section of the hospital. My communications with your secretary appear to have gone astray and they seemed to believe I was a terrorist or something." She reached Casey side and thumped her briefcase onto the table.

"Happily you appear to have overcome the minor oversight in time to make the hearing." Marie began in an overly polite tone which implied she wasn't happy at all.

Bea frowned. "I hardly think my client would consider the non-attendance of her lawyer at her disciplinary hearing as a "minor oversight". However, all was not lost. I had some friends with me who managed to convince your security team of my credentials. It is a credit to the safety of your security policy that it required three members of Her Majesty's Royal Canadian Mounted Police before I was allowed through the door."

Casey's eyes widened. She had known that Derek was in the hospital, but not anyone else from his department. She wondered who the other two were. She wasn't surprised that Marie had tried to interfere with Casey's defence.

"We have wasted enough time." One of the other members of the Board chipped in. "Let's get on with this. I'm due to tee off at five."

Bea turned and regarded the speaker with an icy glare.

"Am I to assume from your comment that you believe this is a cut and dried case?" She enquired.

"The evidence is overwhelmingly damning." He replied, straightening in his chair.

Bea nodded. "Indeed it is. However, since I have not yet had an opportunity to share it with you, I fail to understand how you could know this. Or how you could expect me to share with you my own investigation and findings as well as produce, examine and allow you to examine my numerous witnesses in the space of one hour. Clearly you believe this to be the case since you have booked time on the golf course. Would you like a recess so that you may go and un-arrange your eighteen holes and the rest of you plans for the next three hours?" She smiled sweetly.

"Three hours?" He spluttered.

"Doctor Coleman," Bea said coldly, surprising Casey that her lawyer knew the guy's name when she herself didn't. "Doctor Coleman. I intend to represent my client to the best of my ability. That means I will listen carefully to the "evidence" against my client as presented today, and then I will answer all the charges against Doctor McDonald on her behalf…in full, and without reservation. This may take a while. The charges laid against her call her professionalism, qualifications and character into account. I shall be providing my own evidence of the integrity, intelligence and unassuming nature of my client. To do this completely will require the assistance of a large number of witnesses whose testimony the law requires you to hear."

"This is a disciplinary hearing, Ms…?"

"Evans. Beatrice Evans." Bea announced with a smile.

"Why is that name familiar?" Dr Coleman asked Marie.

A cheery looking guy down the other end of the table grinned. "Because old chap, she made headlines a couple of years ago when she busted that tobacco giant over its retirement policy." He smiled at Bea. "Even in England we heard about you." He winked at Casey and she smiled weakly back.

Marie, fed up with the fact she had lost the initial upper hand she had wanted, banged a gavel down on the little pad.

"Let's get on with this!" She announced.

And the mood of the room changed.

What followed for the next half an hour was a bizarre pantomime whereby a weak-looking Robin was led to a chair and asked to repeat the "events" of the night in questions followed by some ridiculous speculation as to how Casey had managed to get to the position of seniority she had in so short a period of time.

Robin's testimony was overly dramatic and since it was based on a fiction, not particularly detailed.

Casey expected Bea to leap to her feet and pick holes in it at every opportunity, but instead, her lawyer just sat at a desk listening intently and making notes.

All too soon, Robin's testimony was over and Casey was convinced that now was the point at which Bea would react. Robin's testimony had been, after all, a complete fabrication.

Bea stayed sitting down still taking extensive notes. It took a very loud throat-clearing from Marie before she looked up.

"Thank you!" Bea said to Robin. "I'm sure it was all very traumatic for you." She said sounding as though she meant it. And then she was once again quiet.

Casey frowned. What was her friend playing at?

Eventually, Bea stood up.

"Before I let you go, sir." She said to Robin. "I would just like to clarify the charges against my client if I may."  
"This isn't a criminal court." Marie objected. "It's a disciplinary hearing."

"The law is important in any form." Bea said sanctimoniously. "Without the law, we would be in a state of anarchy. People would think they could get away with all sorts of things if there wasn't the law in place: abuses of power, bullying in the workplace…all those sorts of things that keep people like me in a job." She smiled at Marie. "So the charges are that Dr McDonald attempted to use undue influence against her employer to gain preferment. That you believe she has a history of this type of behaviour in fact gaining her qualifications in this manner and that she is in fact guilty of sexual harassment against her boss."

When no one said anything, Bea nodded at her own statement.

"Okay. Let's deal with the simple stuff first. How did Dr McDonald qualify? I'd like to call my first witness. Dr Michaela Harvey, professor of general medicine at Cambridge University." Bea paused and looked at her shocked audience. "She was Dr McDonald's senior lecturer at graduation."

And then over the course of the next half an hour, Bea introduced character witness after character witness, some male, some female who all attested to Casey ability and qualifications as a doctor. In total there were six witnesses. There would have been more, only the nice guy at the back of the room from earlier held up his hand.

"Ms Evans, this is an impressive line of distinguished guests you have brought us. I don't think we should trouble them further. The point about Dr McDonald's capabilities has been more than adequately made. Clearly she achieved her current elevated status through sheer hard work. Did I hear you say that you have witnesses as to the falseness of the charge of attempting to use undue influence in _this_ instance? If so, I'm sure my colleague Dr Coleman is keen to don his plus fours so perhaps we should speed up this far- I mean hearing."

"I like him." Casey whispered under her breath. Bea didn't look at her.

"Dr Rothwell, I'd like to defer that witness until the end if I may because the witness I have is an important one and I have other points to make first. I appreciate that we have already been here more than an hour, but I feel justice deserves a little consideration."

Dr Rothwell nodded. "Indeed. Pray. Continue."

Marie glared down the table at her colleague.

"I'd like to call Nurse Mirfield now please."

Casey frowned. She didn't recognise the very pretty girl who entered the room. She seem small and timid and she glanced nervously at Robin as she took her place.

"Nurse Mirfield. Please tell me which hospital you currently work at and your current role."

"I work at Vancouver General as Paediatric Nurse. I look after sick children."

Bea nodded. "That isn't the area of Nursing which you specialised in initially is it?"

Nurse Mirfield shook her head. "No." She all but whispered. "I specialised in Trauma."

"Why did you change?"  
Nurse Mirfield glanced at Robin again and said nothing. Bea coughed and when Nurse Mirfield looked up at her, she jerked her head toward Casey.

"May I remind you that someone is sitting here relying on your complete honesty." Bea said.

The young nurse sighed. "I left because I could no longer work for Robin." She said.

"Oh?" Bea said as if she was hearing this for the first time. "Why not?"

Nurse Mirfield glanced at Casey again.

"He wouldn't take "no" for an answer." She admitted.

"I beg your pardon." Bea prompted.

"I said that he wouldn't take "no" for an answer. He kept pressuring me to date him, to sleep with him, to …be physical with him."

Bea frowned. "But he's an attractive man." She protested.

"I have a boyfriend I love very much. I wasn't interested."

"Did you explain that to him?"  
"Repeatedly. He said that even my boyfriend would want me to do well at my job."

A couple of the Board members gasped but Marie and Dr Coleman didn't look interested.

Bea didn't react either. She asked a couple more questions and then dismissed Nurse Mirfield.

There followed another attractive lady, this time a fellow doctor with a similar tale of moving to avoid his advances.

The weight of evidence against Robin was stacking up, but even then Dr Coleman pointed out that it still didn't prove that Casey hadn't tried to win preference from Robin.

"I'd like to call my last witness." Bea announced.

The door opened and two people plus a dog entered the room. Dr Coleman gasped.

Bea walked to the spot directly in front of the pretty girl who held the dog. "Please state your name." She requested.

"Suzi Coleman." The girl said.

Casey had known all of the other witnesses. But she didn't know this one.


	21. Hands

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" Dr Coleman shouted standing up.

The girl in the witness' chair rolled her eyes. Bea's eyes never left her even as she answered firmly.

"I assure you Dr Coleman. I am deadly serious. Your daughter is an important witness in this case. She overheard the conversation between your _esteemed_ colleague and Dr McDonald in the coffee shop: the very conversation where Dr McDonald is alleged to have propositioned her boss; _except_, your daughter remembers the conversation differently."

Dr Coleman grew livid. "_That_ is completely impossible!" he shouted.

Casey held her breath because much as she hated to admit it, he was right. What Bea was suggesting was completely impossible. She could remember everything about that evening very clearly and there had been no one close enough to have listened in on their conversation – even if Suzi Coleman's face _was_ familiar.

"Dr Coleman. Whilst I have been told I have amazing skills as a lawyer and my fiancé used to tell me I was a miracle worker, I cannot perform the impossible. What I am suggesting is not however impossible. Your daughter was in the coffee shop that night and she was a party to the conversation. I think we owe it to Truth for us to listen to her testimony."

"I won't allow it!" he snapped backed.

"She's an adult and she has consented to speak because she has something important to say. You really have no choice." Bea replied without raising her voice.

She took a breath and focussed once again on Suzi who was a pretty girl, considerably younger than Casey but an adult no less. Her intelligence shone from her eyes and Casey liked the look of her. It was as if her honesty radiated too.

Bea smiled at her witness.

"Are you ready?" She asked looking Suzi directly in the eye. Suzi nodded.

"You were there as I said?" Bea asked the girl. She nodded again.

"Sorry can you confirm that for me?" Bea prompted.

"Yes I was there. I was several tables away but my line of sight was clear."

"Which is important, isn't it?"  
"Yes." Suzi said with a wry smile.

"I object!" Dr Coleman stood up again.

Suzi turned to her father.

"Oh Daddy!" She objected rapidly and dramatically raising her right thumb to her forehead, her fingers splayed. "I feel so small!" She tapped her chest and then, squeezing her right thumb and closed fingers together she thumped them heavily onto her flat left hand. And then seeing he was about to object…

"STOP!" She shouted, slicing her right hand down onto her flattened left hand sharply.

And suddenly Casey understood.

Suzi Coleman was deaf.

It all made sense: Bea's need to maintain eye contact so that Suzi could read her lips, the very slight accent to Suzi's voice – so slight you barely noticed it, the black Labrador "hearing dog" that had been allowed onto hospital premises, and the fluent expressive tones of speech made by Suzi's hands.

And now Casey understood how Suzi could "overhear" a conversation on the other side of the room.

She had lip-read.

Casey wasn't the only person in the room to understand but they all had to wait to find out how Bea had found Suzi because she did not give them time to puzzle it out. Instead, nodding to the person who had entered the room with Suzi and pausing only briefly to let them stand and join the young girl, Bea launched into her questioning.

"You were at the coffee shop on that date?" Bea asked. The person beside Suzi began to sign to her.

Suzi nodded. It was clear she didn't really need the sign interpreter. She understood Bea clearly just by reading her lips.

"I was having coffee with a friend." She said her mouth and her hands talking at the same time.

"And you remember Dr McDonald and her boss entering the coffee shop?"  
"Yes. My friend had started to talk about a Physics final we had the following week. She was panicking about something rather straight forward and after my attempts to reassure her kept failing, I zoned out. Instead of listening to her I was busy people-watching. I noticed Dr McDonald because she seemed really uneasy: conflicted almost."

Suzi turned to Casey.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't being nosey and rude. It's just that in a world absent of sound you take your atmosphere cues from other signs. I automatically read people's body language and expressions the way you might accidentally overhear a snippet of conversation. Just like an overheard sentence has the power to draw your attention, so does the look of distracted pain on the face of a woman whose companion is desperately attracted to her."

Marie, silent for so long, snorted. "How on earth can you tell that? You don't know the people, you'd never met them. You've never even _heard them speak_."

That last part drew a gasp from more than one person in the room. Dr Coleman glared at his colleague.

"I think we are all aware my daughter is deaf, Marie. There is no need to rub her face in it at every opportunity."  
Suzi rolled her eyes. "Daddy," she chided him with her voice and her hands. "My deafness is only part of me. It does not define me, so I am not offended if _ignorance_ causes a misunderstanding. Ms Anton, is it? Ms Anton, have you ever walked into a room and immediately known that a person doesn't like you? Without them saying a word?"

Casey's eyes met those of the nice guy at the back of the room and they shared a smirk. Of course Marie had! She probably experienced that every day…but then again she might not notice!

"What does that prove?" Marie asked.

"To make that assumption, of someone else's feelings towards you - without speech - your mind has taken cues from the body language they used, the tone of their eyes…so many tiny signs. Like a blind person's enhanced sense of touch, for a deaf person, those tiny signs are so important they become magnified. I knew that the man with Dr McDonald that night desired her because he leaned towards her and touched her a lot. His hand rarely left her arm."

Casey frowned. Was that true? Her mind had been so full of Derek that night she had hardly noticed Robin's approaches however clearly she remembered the details of her surroundings.

Bea stepped in. "And Dr McDonald's manner?"

Suzi turned to Casey.

"Shifty." She said with a smile. "It was that which kept my attention on her. She looked like she was about to bolt out of the door any minute. She kept looking at her watch and then looking to the night outside. She enjoyed her hot drink but it was clear that she was only there out of a sense of duty. That became abundantly clear when they spoke. Initially Dr McDonald expressed her enjoyment of the coffee shop – and I agree it is a very nice place. I hope these events haven't put her off!

Anyway, she said:"I think I might come here again. This was a nice idea, thank you." Robin seemed to like this and asked her if she would come again with him. He was leaning forward as though her answer really mattered. Dr McDonald looked distracted and I don't think she appreciated what he was asking because as she started to answer him quite casually, he decided it was an invitation to more and kissed her on the mouth."

There was a gasp around the room. Robin stood up.

"That's a lie!"

Bea frowned at him. "Ms Coleman has no reason to lie. She knows neither of you personally. She is merely here as a member of the public."

Marie frowned. "How did you find out about this hearing?"  
Suzi turned to the Chair.

"Ms Evans found me."

"How?" Marie's voice was accusatory.

Bea shrugged. "I asked the staff in the coffee shop."  
Marie snorted. "As did I the day after it happened. They said no one was near enough to hear."

Bea smiled. "You asked the wrong question. I asked who was in the coffee shop that night. They told me that no one was seated close enough to hear but they mentioned some of their regulars. Ms Coleman was one of the names mentioned." She sighed. "Of course, they too like you, assumed that she was of no use, and they told me why. Unlike them and you, I made no assumptions. I tracked Suzi down."

"Lucky you!" Marie sniped.

"Luck had nothing to do with. Prejudice gives you a very limited view of the world. It's like wearing horse blinkers. I learnt that lesson a long time ago."

There was a moment's pause.

"Please go on Suzi." Bea said softly. "How did Casey react to the kiss?"  
"She gasped in shock and surprise, and I believe he mis-interpreted her reaction as an invitation to make the kiss more serious because Dr McDonald pushed him away with difficulty. She asked him what the hell he was playing at."

"What was Robin's response?"

Suzi frowned. "It was rather arrogant. I guess he isn't used to being turned down. Anyway, he said "Oh come on Casey. Surely you realised I didn't just ask you out to talk work?" Casey – Dr McDonald appeared shocked and Robin said "I made it clear I fancy you - that I was hoping we could develop this attraction into something more physical.""

There were murmurings around the room. What Robin had suggested was really inappropriate on any level.

"Casey asked him what attraction he was talking about – she seemed confused. She told him she had made it clear she wasn't interested in dating her boss. I remember wondering if the rest of their department were as attractive as they were."

There were a few smiles at that.

"Meanwhile, Casey mentioned that she lived with someone – that it was serious - and asked how she had given Robin the wrong impression."

"And then?"

"And then the conversation deteriorated into a discussion about Casey's relationship with her step-brother. It wasn't very pleasant. Eventually, Dr McDonald stood, thanked him for dinner and told him there wouldn't be a repeat. She also promised to re-pay her half of the meal cost by check the following day. Robin accused her of being after him for her career. Casey told him she wouldn't dignify that with an answer and that if he repeated the accusation it would look bad for him because he was the one who invited the new girl out for a $400 dinner to discuss her "career" options. Dr McDonald left then looking as though she was about to cry."

There was silence and all eyes in the room turned to Robin.

"This is no proof." Robin said. "She's been coached."

Dr Coleman sat up straighter in his chair.

"Please tell me you didn't just accuse my daughter of lying at a formal hearing, Robin?" he said.

"It's a valid point." Marie said.

Dr Coleman stared at her. "I've put up with some crap in my time from you two but this is below the belt – Literally. I've always known you couldn't keep it in your pants," he turned to Robin and then twisted to speak to Marie "and you lapped it up. But this…this is a step too far."

"But we…"

"Marie, you overplayed this. You were heavy handed, biased and completely out of line. I think it is more than clear that Dr McDonald has been nothing but professional in her time here; actions which we have re-paid badly with accusations and disrespect. It stops now. I will not work in a hospital where decent hard-working doctors are treated like this and I don't think I am alone in this." He looked around the table at his colleagues who all muttered their agreement.

"In fact," he went on. "I'd rather resign than deal with that kind of crap."

The nice guy at the back coughed. "You go, I go Roger."

"Here here." The others around the table agreed.

"Ah!" Dr Coleman said smiling sagely. "Well I think we have a problem here. It appears the majority of the board would rather leave than work under you. Clearly we cannot have the entire Board of a hospital resigning in one go. So we have little choice. I would like point out to you both that a generous package will be available to you both if you do the honourable thing…a _severance_ package. Am I speaking for the whole Board with my suggestion?"

There followed a chorus of agreement. Robin looked…resigned (ironically), Marie looked furious.

"You can't do this! _I_ am the Chair of the Board."

Dr Coleman frowned. "Oh? Did I miss a step? Forgive me. I move for a vote of no confidence in the Chair. All those in favour say Ay."

"AY!" The entire Board replied.

"Motion carried."

The nice guy at the back straightened. "I move that we vote Dr Coleman as the new Chair. All those in favour…say Ay."

"AY!"

The nice guy grinned. "Motion carried. You're up Roger!"

"Thanks Andrew." Dr Coleman nodded.

"Marie Anton. I believe your position at this hospital has been terminated. Shall we adjourn to my office to discuss your severance pacakage?"

Bea spoke up. "Dr Coleman? We…erm…need to resolve the other matter?"

Dr Coleman looked up at the lawyer and then at his daughter. "Oh yes…of course!"

He turned to Casey.

"Dr McDonald. The hospital would like to extend its sincere apologies for the way you have been treated. We hope that you are not put off by the extreme actions of my former colleagues and that you will continue to make your home with us."

He looked at Casey expectantly.

"Erm…" She looked embarrassed. "Can I return to work on Monday?" She was eager to put this behind her.  
"Of course. The duration of your suspension will of course be recompensed at full pay. The Board would again like to express its regret at the situation which occurred."

Surprised, Casey nodded. "I shall see you bright and early on Monday." She said not allowing the massive wave of euphoria to knock her off her feet just yet.

"Good, good. Andrew," Dr Coleman looked across at the nice guy at the back of the room. "It would appear that we have a vacancy for a Head of Trauma. I know that you have expressed an interest in the position in the past. May I interest you in a temporary placement? We can perform the formalities at a later date."  
Andrew smiled. "I'd be delighted, Roger."

There was a great deal of movement then. Robin and Marie found themselves ushered from the room even as the rest of the Board began to rise from their seats. Dr Coleman however, did not leave. Instead, he moved across to his daughter, standing before her, his demeanour somewhat chastened.

He glanced down at his feet and then up into her eyes.

Roger Coleman's right fist made a circle around his heart.

"I'm sorry." He said. Then he pointed to his chest, zipped his middle up with his fist and then pointed to his daughter. _I pride you. _She hid a smirk.

"It's ok." She replied, signing as she spoke. "I understand. It's hard not to be protective towards your child."

He smiled wryly. "I should trust you though. You aren't a child anymore."

"Yes. You should." She said smiling. "But it's forgotten – this time."

"Dinner?" he asked.

"I'd be delighted!" She beamed back.

Dr Coleman, an apologetic look towards Casey bent down to ruffle the black Labrador behind his ears and then helped his daughter up from her seat.

"We will make amends to you Dr McDonald." He promised as he prepared to leave.

Casey nodded her thanks and then she put her hand on Suzi's arm to still the witness who had recovered her career for her. She turned both hands upside down in front of her and wiggled her fingers in the ASL standard for "Wait!"

Suzi looked at her in surprise and appreciation. Casey smiled depreciatingly.

"I took ASL classes." She signed. "It helps my job."

"You sign well." Suzi had stopped speaking and just relied on her hands.

"Thank you." Casey replied in return. "I learnt a long time ago, during a black period in my life. I've never regretted it. It's a skill I use at least once a week." She smiled. "I will never forget what you did today."

"I told the truth." Suzi signed.

"Sometimes that's the hardest thing of all." Casey replied.

The door at the back of the room opened and three Mounties entered the room, Derek in the lead.

Suzi glanced at the approaching man and turned to Casey.

She frowned and mouthed "who" as her hands formed a vague "L" shape. _Who is that man?_

Casey looked across.

"D E R E K." She fingerspelled.

"Your step-brother?" Suzi signed.

Casey chuckled. "And my partner." She signed.

Suzi stroked her flattened palms across each other in a clear sign that Casey recognised. "Niiiice!" She confirmed verbally - in a way that made Casey giggle.


	22. Honesty

It had been one of the hardest afternoons of Derek's life. He had been forced to stand outside the room where Casey's professional future was being decided without being allowed to join her inside.

He was prohibited from entering the room for two reasons: the lesser was the rules of the Board which stated that anyone who was not hospital staff (with the exception of Casey's Counsel) was not permitted to enter whilst the Board was in session. The secondary reason was that the albeit reprimanded Security team were rather zealous and were watching the three police officers like hawks.

Although Derek and Casey had come to the hospital alone, Jazz and Spike had quickly followed because they thought they might be useful as character referees or something. The "or something" turned out to be providing Bea with an escort to the Board meeting room when the private security team employed by the hospital (and clearly briefed by Marie) refused to allow the lawyer access. Spike had had to throw his rank and weight around, but eventually the security team backed down. However, that didn't mean they were going to let the Mounties into the room – or let them walk about the hospital. They stayed close to the three cops until the Board room door opened and Marie and Robin were led out, clearly chastened.

Then Derek was the first through the door.

It took him a moment to locate Casey in the room and at which time his tension dissipated. She was laughing with a girl he didn't recognise; laughing and _signing_. He slowed his pace, hanging back because he didn't want to interrupt.

Casey turned and smiled warmly. "Derek, meet Suzi." She signed. "My Saviour."

Derek nodded to the new girl and looked quizzically at Casey. "They cleared you?"

"Yes, thanks to Bea who shot all their evidence out of the water and Suzi who overheard my conversation with Robin in the coffee shop."

Derek grinned at Suzi and signed "Hello!"

Suzi was shocked. "You both sign?" She asked with her voice and hands. Derek looked sheepish.

"Er…No. Sorry. That was my one sign. I saw it on Sesame Street once."  
"Der-ek!" Casey objected, slightly embarrassed.

Suzi laughed. "No. Don't. I like him. He's honest!" She signed.

"What happened?" Derek asked Casey when they had all finished laughing. He moved closer to his girlfriend and slipped an arm around her waist. Casey leaned into him unconsciously, her fingers covering the hand that held her hip. She glanced up at him.

"They proved me right, Robin and Marie objected, the rest of the Board didn't like it and they were replaced."  
"Robin and Marie have gone?" Derek asked sounding shocked.

"Yup! By a curious twist of fate, Suzi is not only a witness from the café but also the daughter of one of the other Board members. When Marie called into question Suzi's reliability, Suzi's father took umbrage at her comments. It seems Marie has annoyed her colleagues for the last time – in this hospital at least."

Bea, who had been talking to some of the other people in the room joined them.

"Thank you." Derek said sincerely.

"Don't thank me. All I did was demonstrate the truth."  
"That's shit and you know it." Jazz said from behind Derek. "You worked your fucking butt off for the last few weeks looking for the weak link in their case. You deserve most of the credit for this."

Bea's jaw dropped and she looked embarrassed as if she didn't know what to do with the sudden compliment from her Nemesis. Casey and Derek were a little taken aback too.

Before Bea could formulate an answer, Jazz smacked Derek on the back.

"Spike and me are heading back to the office to check on things. Nero's tonight? We need to put this crap to bed with a decent send off."

Casey frowned. "Nero's?"

Derek shrugged. "It's a high end bar in town with pool and a dance-floor. It's better than your average Jazz-frequented flea-pit. Let's go. You deserve a chance to let off steam and it's been a while since I last got a chance to roll out the old "hook" and "zombie"."

Suzi frowned as she read his lips. She pointed her right index finger and curved it to hook with her left hand. "Hook?" she asked and then with four fingers facing her eyes and moving them back and forth horizontally a few times, "Zombie?"

Casey laughed. "Derek has a unique dancing style. It's a sight to behold. Why don't you come? I owe you a drink at the very least."

Suzi smiled. "That would be nice, but the theory that deaf people can use the vibrations to help them dance and "hear" music…? It doesn't work with me. I look like I got bitten by a rattler after downing a shot of strychnine." Uncharacteristically, her hands had stayed by her sides as she spoke. "I can't even describe it in sign language!"

They all laughed.

"One drink?" Casey pushed.

Suzi shook her head. "I think I need to spend a little time with my father tonight. I've never seen him stick up for me in front of his work colleagues like that before. I'm rather proud of him and I'd like to tell him so."

Derek reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, slipping from it a small business card.

"Give me a pen." He said to Casey who rolled her eyes.

Derek scribbled something on the back of the card and gave it to Suzi.

Jazz snorted. "Dude, you're supposed to wait until the girlfriend's not looking before you slip the hot chick your cell number."

"This is _Casey's_ cell number." Derek said by way of explanation to Suzi. "My desk number is on the other side. You ever need either of us, you call. Okay?"

Suzi hesitated. But Derek closed her hand around the card.

"You're a friend, now, honey. Casey just moved to Ottawa and," he threw his girlfriend a quick smirk and continued in a stage whisper. "She needs all the friends she can get!"

"Excuse the moron. He was born like that." Casey jerked her head towards Derek. "But he's right about staying in touch. Perhaps we could meet for coffee at the coffee shop?"

"I'd like that." Suzi said, genuinely. "I'll give you a call."

She left the room then, trailing the particularly docile dog and equally compliant (and latterly redundant) interpreter. Jazz too took his leave, following Spike from the room.

Derek turned to Bea. "Go get your glad rags on, toots. I'll buy you a double."  
Casey groaned. "You have no grace, Venturi."

"What?" He complained, but Bea shook her head. "I'm not really in the mood for it tonight, Derek, but thanks."

Derek snorted. "Bollocks! You're itching to find out why Jazz was nice to you just now. Come with us. You look like you need a decent night out too."  
"Gee…thanks!" Bea said wryly.

"Like I said," Casey pointed out. "He has no grace."

The ol' Venturi charm had worked on Bea though because she agreed to meet them at the bar. Casey wasn't sure why, as Derek hadn't couched it in the best of terms, so maybe he was right about Bea wanting to find out what was Jazz's motivation was for his earlier compliment. Personally, Casey hoped it was a sign that Derek's friend still felt something for his former love.

Correction: she _knew_ he still felt something for Bea. Once you knew what had passed between them years ago the fact that they still cared was difficult to miss despite the cutting remarks and the deep tension. What Casey hoped was that Jazz was considering righting a wrong.

Casey and Derek, after filling Rosita in on the events upstairs, left for home to change.

* * *

It was getting close to the time for them to leave for the bar and Casey still hadn't emerged from the bedroom. Derek, sipping a small beer in the now fully equipped living room glanced at his watch and then towards the bedroom. He was ready but where the hell was Casey? He drained the bottle, placed it on the breakfast bar as he passed on his way to the bedroom.

Tentatively he pushed open the bedroom door.

Casey was sitting in her underwear on the edge of the bed facing away from him. Her head was bowed and her shoulders shook with her sobbing.

Derek rounded the bed in an instance and sitting down beside her, pulled her cool body into his arms.

"Hey!" he said, kissing the top of her head. "What's the matter?"

There followed a Casey blurt that was all snot, sniffs and very little that resembled the English language. Derek reached for a tissue from beside the bed and handed it to her.

"I didn't catch any of that." He said matter-of-factly, brushing damp hair from her face.

"I said I just realised how close I came to losing my job." Casey sobbed a little clearer this time.

"But you didn't."  
"But _what if_?"  
Derek sighed and squeezed her tighter. "Casey, there will be things in our life that will cause tears enough. I thought we agreed we weren't going to waste tears on the things in the past?"

"I know." She patted his hand. "And you're right. This is just me burying it."

"Forever?"

"Yes." Casey said looking up. Derek grabbed another tissue and started to clean her face. Job done, he reached across and planted a series of kisses on her damp skin.

"You were always going to win, sweetheart. The truth finds a way."

"But what if it hadn't?" Casey asked.

Derek shrugged. "Then I had this idea about blackmailing Robin till he 'fessed up." He replied.

"You _what?_!" Casey asked in horror.

Derek laughed at her gullibility. "That was a joke, Casey."

"Good!" Casey said, relaxing.

"I'd never do something that underhand." Derek noted. "Even I have limits you know."  
"I'm glad to hear it. I've had my suspicions." Casey said, pulling herself together and standing up to get ready.

"Yeah." Derek said from the bed, watching her as she moved around the room in the lacy items that he loved. "I won't sink to the depths and depravity of some people."

"You have no idea how happy that makes me." She said distractedly and glancing up at Derek as she pulled her dress over her head.

"Definitely." Derek said leaning back on the bed. "If you hadn't won, I would never have blackmailed Robin." Derek watched the silk slide down over her curves and his smirk grew. "Nah." He went on. "I'd have asked Jazz to do it."

* * *

The club was really quite nice. It wasn't as big or as new as the one owned by Papillion, and it was of a much higher standard than the small bar in which they had first met Bea. It was located in an old Victorian building on a side street and the front portion of the building had clearly been some sort of British style pub for a very long time. As you moved further into the building, however, the décor and atmosphere changed. The space opened up into a large cavernous room with Pool tables along one wall, a long bar along another and a decent, though not full-sized dance-floor in the middle. The floor wasn't sticky, it was appropriately lit and right now it wasn't overly busy.

Casey liked it.

Derek held her hand as they walked towards the rear bar; his grip tighter than usual because he was feeling extra protective of her tonight. He tried to tell himself it was the residual worry of the earlier hearing, but something buried deep kept telling him it was more than that. It felt more like instinct. He really hoped not, because he wasn't sure he had the energy for life to throw something else at him.

The tension in his body must have communicated itself to Casey because as soon as they reached the bar and he leaned to ask her what she wanted, Casey pressed a kiss to his neck and announced "for you to relax".

Derek sighed and pulled her close. "I'm trying to. Something's a bit off though."

Casey frowned. "Between us?" She asked nervously.

He almost snorted at the notion. "No." He said, nuzzling close. "Just call it my spidey sense."

Correctly interpreting his unease, he whipped her head around and started searching the other people in the room.

Derek laughed. "Relax, love. My spidey sense is pretty good with the early warning. It'll probably be days before whatever it is shows up."  
"Promise me you won't hide it from me?" She asked.

"If you need to know I'll tell you." He said trying to distract her with a direct kiss on the mouth.

Casey moaned and he wasn't sure if it was his actions or his words.

"That's not what I asked." She complained in clarification, but before they could argue about it, Bea tapped Casey on the shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt." She apologised.

Derek gaped at the sight before him.

"Wow!" he said, stepping back to get a better look. When they had first met Bea outside of work she had been dressed something in the region of a rock chick and although they knew she dressed differently for work, they sort of assumed she would adopt the same hard ass look tonight, on her down time. Bea, however, clearly had other ideas.

She was dressed in a deep red wrap dress and black heels. Across her body was slung a tiny black purse and her hair, down for once, bounced on her shoulders. She was wearing make-up as normal, but it was softer tonight. She looked stunning.

"You look amazing!" Casey exclaimed leaning forward to peck her on the cheek as had become their custom.

Bea blushed although neither of her friends noticed in the low light.

"Thanks! I thought I'd make an effort outside of work for once. Erm…Could you get me a beer or something I'm just off to the ladies room…" she let her voice trail away.

"I could do with freshening up too." Casey announced sensing that her friend wanted to talk. "I'll come with you."

Derek accepted her quick kiss on the lips with a murmured. "Keep your eyes open." He said it in reference to his earlier unease.

Casey nodded. She knew better than to laugh at Derek's protectiveness.

* * *

"What's up?" Casey asked leaning forward to inspect her perfect make-up as Bea fidgeted beside her.

"Do you think he'll show?" Bea asked nervously.

"Who?" Casey asked, though she had a pretty good idea.

"Jason." Bea confirmed Casey's suspicion.

Casey shrugged with more nonchalance than she felt.

"It was his suggestion." She pointed out.

"Hmm. I know."

Casey smiled. "But it matters?" She questioned. Bea said nothing.

Her friend leaned against a convenient wall.

"I thought we were completely oblivious to Mr Ransome." She said, curving an eyebrow north-wards."  
"We are…I am…it's just…"  
"It's just at the end of the day, he is an ex. An ex you were very in love with and who happens to fill a pair of tight jeans very nicely." Casey stated.

Bea frowned at Casey in a slightly appalled manner.

"You noticed? I thought you were supposed to be Derek's girlfriend!"

Casey laughed. "I am!" She said. "Believe me I am! Relax! I'm not interested in Jazz…and your face was a picture!"

Bea scowled. "I'm not supposed to notice either." She said. "The jeans thing, I mean. And believe me, that wasn't the attraction back then."

"No?"

"No. I fell in love with him because he was a really sweet guy."  
"And you think that has changed?"

Bea sighed. "I don't know what to believe anymore. We've been apart so long. He used to be the kind of guy who slipped love notes in the pocket of your hoodie. Now by all accounts the only notes he slips girls are his phone number and availability."

Casey put a hand on Bea. "What do you want me to say?" She asked. "That he's a man-whore and you should steer well clear?"  
Bea's eyes darted up to meet Casey's. "Is that what you think?"  
Casey shook her head. "Bea. I've heard your story and it's tragic. But I've also heard Jazz's story. Honey, I care about both of you so I'm not about to apportion blame."

"But…"

Casey shook her head again. "No buts." She insisted. "I think he treated you badly, but I think he was treated badly too. There are no winners in your tale, only losers. Or at least there will only be losers if you pay too much attention to the past. Live in the present. How does he make you feel now? Is there still a spark or do you just want to flush his head down the toilet?"  
Bea laughed and Casey carried on.

"For what it's worth, I don't think either of you has moved on."

"But he's _dated_ so many girls." Bea said it with a bad taste in her mouth.

"Guys do that. You accused him of sleeping around. He's giving you what you asked for - a sleezy ex."  
Bea's face set in an angry grimace. "I didn't accuse him lightly. There was evidence."  
Casey shook his head. "At the end of the day who did you trust? Your boyfriend of many years or the girl you shared a room with for a few months?"  
"It was more than that, we were like sisters."  
"Bea, sweetheart, no true friend allows themselves to be picked up by their roommate's fiancé. It's just not done."

Bea sighed. "She was very convincing. So contrite. Jason and I…we'd been together so long, I sort of expected that he'd get bored with me after a while." She straightened. "This isn't going to change anything. There's too much water under the bridge."

Casey shrugged. "Time will tell about that. I'll tell you one thing I've learnt from experience, however, life is too short to throw away love. The seven years without Derek in my life were so hard."

"Even though there was nothing between you before?"  
Casey smiled wistfully. "There was always something between us."

* * *

"Here." Derek said pushing a straight double jack Jazz. "You'll need it."  
"Oh?" Jazz asked, picking it up and sipping it.

"Bea's here and she looks fucking hot."

Jazz paused, the glass halfway to his lips his pointer finger extended. "You aren't supposed to be looking." He accused.

"I'm in a relationship, not dead." Derek snorted. "Believe me, if I was single I'd be knocking every son-of-a out of the way in my haste to get to her." He smirked at Jazz. "Including you."  
"Not interested anyway." Jazz said into his drink.

Derek chuckled as he glanced around the room. "Yeah right. Tell it to someone who'll believe you. I've been watching you."  
"Watching me do what?"  
"Dude. Some days I need to get a cloth and wipe your dripping chin. You hang on her every word." He shrugged. "Okay, so you pull your face into that stupid constipated look, but Jazz man, the drool is a dead giveaway."

Jazz rolled his eyes. "Why does this sound like everything I've been telling you about Casey for the last X months?"

Derek sipped his drink. "Casey was a different matter. It was never about not wanting her, only about not being able to have her. Totally different. You and Bea should never have split."

"She accused me of sleeping with that skank roomie of hers."  
"So you repay her by going out and sleeping with every other skank on the planet."  
"It wasn't about her by then. She had no say in my life then. She _jilted me._"

Derek sighed. "Dude. She didn't jilt you. She just asked you to postpone the wedding until she'd had a chance to make a career for herself. She wanted support and understanding."  
Jazz drained his glass. "She wanted to move away from me for three years."  
"No. She wanted to go to Harvard. You never gave her chance to ask you to go with her."

"I…so what is this? You Team Bea now then?"  
Derek shook his head. "Jazz, Dude. Wise up. When we're young we're fucking foolish. We do stupid things, make stupid mistakes. You and Bea. You both screwed up your relationship because you were too young to know better." Derek's eyes bored into those of his friend. "You're not young now. Prove to me that you're not foolish either."

There was a long pause.

"Did you see her earlier?" Jazz said quietly. "In that Boardroom. I've not seen her working before. I mean I've pushed work her way and I know she's good at it, but I've never seen her in her element before. She was so…professional – even when the hearing had finished."  
Derek laughed. "_Professional? _Is that like code for fuck-hot in a pencil skirt?"

Jazz narrowed his eyes at him. "Derek, you're letting your librarian fetish show again."  
They both laughed.

"She looked like she belonged." Jazz said eventually, sadly. "How could I have competed with that?"  
Derek put his drink down.

"Jazz. A job is a job. Family is family. Love is love. Each is separate but there is absolutely nothing to say that they can't all live together. Look at me, I'm in love with my step-sister. She's the biggest keener on the planet and in many ways my complete opposite, but I've lived a life without her. It was no life. She's my family and it clashes often with my job, but the love that binds us…" he looked away and didn't finish the sentence. Jazz said nothing and eventually Derek continued.

"Jason. Don't fuck up a second chance at happiness."


	23. Shadows

It was hard to avoid. He was watching her every move.

Of course like every guy on the planet who doesn't want the object of his affections to notice his interest, he was trying to hide it. He kept pointing out to Derek objects of interest of the feminine persuasion around the room. The trouble was Bea had known him since they were children. She knew every mood he possessed, every expression;

She knew every inch of his skin. She was pleased that he had now been able to shed the cast and was instead relying on just a stick. He looked like the person she knew again.

Take the moment when she emerged from the Ladies room and returned to the bar with Casey. The latter had quickly slipped into the circle of Derek's arm, standing between Derek's legs as he perched on the bar stool.

Trailing Casey as she walked to the bar and, in an attempt to avoid watching what was quite an intimate greeting, Bea looked away from her friend and caught the moment when Jazz spotted Bea for the first time. He rapidly swallowed his reaction, but Bea recognised it because she had seen it on his face before.

It was the look he had worn on the night of their Senior Prom when she entered the room in her new evening dress, her hair perfect, her make-up perfect, her mood perfect – because the love of her life was perfect.

That night Jason had told her _she_ was perfect, that _they_ were perfect and that one day he would marry her - although it had been another six months before he had actually proposed.

Tonight _Jason_ looked out from Jazz's face and she wanted to cry and throw herself at him so badly because for once he wasn't looking at her with thinly-disguised hatred. Just admiration – and something else.

And in her turn she wasn't looking at him through a red mist of disgust; just a fog of longing and regret.

Casey had been right about the way he looked in a pair of tight jeans and a black dress shirt. He still made Bea's "girly parts" weep with excitement. (She rolled her eyes at her internal phrasing). He still made every cell in her body wake up and work overtime. Her heart pounded, her breathing quickened and even the hair on her head tingled from his proximity.

Derek and Casey had their heads bowed together, lips on skin. They missed the moment when the two ex-lovers re-met.

"Hi." Bea said to Jazz weakly.

He coughed. "Hi." He said equally lamely and then when he remembered his manners "Do you want a drink?"

Bea shook her head and nodded towards the bar. "Derek's already got me one." She said.

Jazz frowned and then noticed the bottle on the bar. He passed it to Bea.

"Thanks." She said.

"You're welcome." He replied.

They stood in awkward silence while Derek lightly teased Casey in a voice so low they couldn't hear the details even if they did hear her amused, but frustrated bleat of "Der-ek!"

"This is…nice." Bea said more to fill the silence than because she believed it.

"Yes it is." Jazz said wondering why he sounded as though he was making conversation with his aged aunt; a thought which seriously disturbed him because the idea of his aunt when he was so consumed with old memories of Bea was just…wrong. "Have you not been here before?"  
"I…erm…don't get out much. Work keeps me rather busy." If she worked hard there wasn't time to think, time to regret, time to miss.

"Me too. I guess you spend your free time at Paddy's."

Bea snorted. "That's not free time. That's me drumming up business. The lawyer business, I mean, before you start insinuating anything."  
Jazz looked taken aback at the harshness of her comment. He frowned wondering what possible comment he would have come up with that she was pre-empting. His mind was too full of her, of her beauty, of the past though.

Bea noticed his confusion and recognised she was at fault.

"Sorry. Snark…it's a habit."

She didn't clarify whether it was a general habit or just one around Jazz.

They both knew.

He smiled wryly and waved it off.

Bea looked around for something to change the subject with, but all her eyes fell on was Derek who was nuzzling Casey while her fingers played with the hem of his shirt at his waist. Bea rolled her eyes.

"Do you think those two will come up for air anytime soon?"

Jazz laughed. "Probably not. They've got some catching up to do." He glanced over at the pool tables behind her. "Ah! The table I booked is free. I guess Derek isn't interested right now. It's been a while since I wiped the table with your ass, you fancy a game?"

Bea nodded, wondering if Jazz had meant the double entendre. A memory of hot frantic sex on a dining room table passed across her mind and she felt a related heat rise to her cheeks. Jazz noticed as she gulped beer in an effort to cool down.

"Penny for them."

Bea spluttered. Jazz smirked. But it was gentle and almost…affectionate, like the old smirk. The one she fell in love with so many years ago.

"I have to warn you." She said taking a cue from the rack against the wall. "I've been practising for many years."  
Jazz curled an eyebrow. "So have I babe, so have I."  
Bea sighed. "Yeah. I'd heard that."

And they both knew she wasn't talking about blue baize and multicoloured balls.

* * *

Derek and Casey did surface not long after. Casey would have apologised to Bea and Jazz for her earlier distraction but why should she since it had been Derek's idea? The moment he had pulled her to him by the bar, the deep longing kiss a prelude to neck kisses which enabled him to whisper softly.

"Stay right where you are and ignore them. They have no choice but to talk to each other and if we're lucky they go play pool or something."

"If you wanted to spend the evening rubbing up against me, D we could have stayed at home in bed."

"Ah! But then Bea would have stayed in her home and Jazz in his and never the twain would have met. This way we get them to face a few things."

"Der-ek!" Casey moaned against his neck. "You're worse than me!"

He chuckled as he kissed. "No. I'm far, far better than you. You just need to admit it. I'm better in everything."

She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "Really? Even when I do that _thing_…?"  
His eyes widened. "No. Clearly, you win on that score." There was a pause. "Although you're getting a little rusty at that." He pointed out. "You might need some more practice."

Casey giggled and he pulled her close for another deep kiss.

* * *

"How's Gamma?" Jazz asked, chalking the cue.

Bea smiled. "She's still going. She's my secretary."  
Jazz chuckled. "No shit? Wow! Yeah I can see her doing that. Tell me, who bosses who? You or her?"  
"She's my grandmother, Jason. Who do you think?"  
He laughed again. "She keeps you in check then?"  
"Oh Yeah. No one fucks with Gamma."

"Give her my love. I miss the old crow." He said meaning it, but without thinking.

Bea said nothing but her face said everything.

"What?"  
"You're not exactly her best friend these days." She pointed out.

"She used to love me."  
"Yeah. That was before you…" Bea stopped. "You know what? This is ridiculous!" She said, putting her cue down on the table. "We're behaving as though everything is normal. It isn't. This was a mistake."  
Bea started to move towards the door, but Jazz stepped in front of her.

"Don't." He said quietly.

"Don't walk away? It was fine for you all those years ago. Why the fuck can't I do it now?"  
"Because I was immature and stupid. You aren't any of that. You're smart and amazing and beautiful and…" His voice trailed away. "Jesus, BB." He looked conflicted.

Bea sucked in a breath at the nickname. It was a nickname only he had ever used and even he only rolled it out when they were in their most private of situations.

"Don't call me that." She snapped.

"Why? Because it reminds you of the fact that we once shared something?" He snorted. "Ashamed of me? The fact that I was your _first_ in so many ways. I know you in ways no one else will ever know you! I've seen your _highs_ as well as your lows."  
She rolled her eyes. "You caused most of my lows."

"That's not fair."  
"What? You think you sleeping with my best friend should be classed as one of my high points?"  
"For the last fucking time, Beatrice, I did _not_ sleep with that whore of a roommate of yours."  
"Alice says you did."  
"Alice was a manipulative bitch who was jealous of everything you ever had. She propositioned me the day that I proposed to you and then took offence when I turned her down. Hell! What kind of woman hits on someone else's fiancé on the day of the engagement?"  
"She said you tried it on with her repeatedly."  
"She was lying. You knew me. You knew I was committed to us. "Why the hell did you believe her?"

"You didn't understand why I wanted to postpone the wedding."  
"No. You're right. I didn't. Why did it make a difference whether you graduated as Mrs Ransome or Miss Evans? I didn't see why you going to Harvard should require you to break it off."

"Maybe I wanted to be able to concentrate." Even she wasn't sure.

"You graduated from High School Valedictorian. Despite being my girlfriend. You were on course to graduate top of your class from college. Despite being my fiancée. What makes you think I would be a distraction if you went on to Harvard? You never gave me a chance. You never even asked."

"I wanted you to come. You flew off the handle."

"It was a shock. We'd been planning that wedding for two years!"

They were standing beside the pool table, Bea's hands empty. Jazz's still grasping the cue. He wasn't brandishing it, just holding it vertically as if about to chalk it, yet the tension in their voices was drawing some attention – a fact they both quickly realised.

"Now is not the time." Bea said quietly.

"No. I guess not."  
"I don't think I'm ready to…hash this out."  
Jazz sighed. "You'll never be ready. I'll never be _ready_. That doesn't mean we shouldn't talk about it though."

"Jason…"

"It's Jazz. Jason makes me sound like a gay investment banker."  
Bea snorted and their eyes met.

He itched to touch her; to be close to her. She wanted him there, with her. Together.

Jazz took a step. Bea took a step.

Derek ruined it.

"Jazz? You got your piece on you?" Derek asked his voice frantic, a worried Casey behind him.

"Yeah. Why?" Jazz asked his eyes still firmly fixed on Bea.

"I just saw him."

Jazz frowned. "Just saw who?"  
"The guy that put the metal plate in my head."

* * *

"How are they doing?" Casey asked, her view of Jazz and Bea restricted by Derek who was grabbing all her attention – as well as a couple of other things.

"They're fine. By that I mean I think they're about to throttle each other but it looks like us just before we start ripping each other's clothes off so I think we're safe."

She chuckled. "I hope they get this sorted. Bea's quite lonely, I think."

Derek snorted. "Jazz is just a morose fucker all the time. Unless he got laid, then he's just smug. Having said that, it's been a while since he's picked anyone up, at least since before the whole Robin shit."

"Maybe it's to do with Bea."

Derek lifted his head to look at her. "Casey, _everything_ is to do with Bea even if it's sleeping with the bath scum of the earth just to stick two fingers up at her."

Casey frowned. "Does that make sense to guys? Only it seems really backward to me."

"Of course it's backward! He's in love with her. No guy ever does anything sane when they're in love."  
"So you'd do the same would you? If you were pissed at me. You'd go out and sleep with some mindless bimbo just to prove a point?"

Derek looked at her like she was crazy. "Duh…no! I said I was insane not suicidal."

Their eyes met and they grinned at each other.

"I like that, you know." Casey said without letting her eyes fall from his. "I like that you didn't deny it."

He smiled. It could have been one of his usual self-satisfied smirks – but it wasn't. Maybe Casey should have elaborated on what he hadn't denied. It wasn't necessary. They both knew it was love.

"I'm done denying it." Derek said softly (or as softly as you can in a noisy bar). "What's the point? I've said it to you repeatedly, during our highs and our lows."

"Our highs are catching up with our lows." Casey pointed out.

"They are, aren't they?" He pulled her close to him again. "It's a good sign for the future."  
"Future?"  
"Yeah. Maybe we have one!" He chuckled. He glanced up above her head and towards Jazz and Bea.

Then the laughter left his face abruptly. Standing off to one side, not looking at him was a familiar face.

It wasn't a familiar face in the way that a friend's face is. It was the kind of "familiar" that comes with being a cop; A completely different sensation. It isn't a pleasant sense of recognition, and inevitably it results in a large wave of frustration as you try to work out which side of the law and order divide you know the person from; have you met them in a court room? Or did you see their picture on the criminal record database?

For Derek, it did the unthinkable, it triggered a flashback: a flashback of an ATM, a guy with a weird face mask and a loaded gun.

Derek shoved Casey violently behind him.

"FUCK!" "Ow!" They said simultaneously.

"Derek what was…?" Casey stopped. Derek had slipped from the bar stool, grabbed her arm and was dragging her towards Jazz.

"Quick! I need you to stay with Jazz and Bea." He said urgently.

"What?" She protested, pulling back.

"I've just seen him! The guy that shot me. Over by the other end of the bar. He hasn't spotted that I've seen him yet but when he does he's going to leave and I need to follow him." Derek was rambling like an excited child.

"Derek! You can't. Not on your own." Casey insisted, the maternal voice of reason…again.

"I don't have time to wait for back up. Go to Jazz so I know you're safe." Derek was equally determined. It was a testament to how much he loved her that he hadn't just abandoned her and immediately confronted the guy from his past.

Casey wasn't prepared to acknowledge that. Nor was she about to let him walk into danger without a fight on her behalf. "No. I'm coming with you. I'm armed."

"Good." Derek nodded, meaning it. "You and Jazz will need that to keep Bea safe."  
"Jazz can look after Bea, I'm…"

The conversation continued as they pushed their way through the crowds. Casey was insistent that Derek wasn't going to abandon her. Derek was insistent that he wasn't taking her with him.

It went on like that until they reached Jazz.

* * *

"I'm coming with you." This time it was Jazz making demands.

"Dude. You may have lost the cast but you still limp like Long John Silver."

"I'm still fast on my feet and you're wasting time arguing. Besides, I'm the one with the car keys."

Derek glanced over his shoulder at his quarry who still hadn't moved, and then back at his co-worker. Jazz's face was set. Casey too stood on the sidelines. Derek turned to Casey.

"If I take Jazz with me will you stop it with the crap about following me?"

She considered it for a minute.

"The more of us that go the more protection you'll have."  
"The more of you that come with me the more dead weight I have around my neck; the more time it will take for me to react; the more chance someone will get hurt. Casey, this is no different than my normal job."  
"Except this guy has already killed you once before."  
Bea frowned at Casey's comment. The other three didn't notice.

Casey sighed. "Okay. But you only follow him, you don't try and take him down without back up and if it gets nasty you run like hell."  
Derek rolled his eyes. "You know, Spike, you're a hell of a lot more attractive than the last time I saw you."

Jazz pulled a face. "Dude, that's just plain sick."

They all chuckled. Derek checked on the fugitive in the corner.

"We need to move." He said. "What about the girls? Where are they going to go?"  
"I've got my car." Bea spoke up.

"And I've got my gun." Casey said. Bea's eyes widened.

Derek sighed. "Okay. Jazz you come with me. Case, you and Bea go home to our place. Stay there until you hear from us. And I mean _stay_ there! No heroics. If I see you anywhere near me…"

"I won't." Casey said. "I promise." She meant it. Derek had been right. The last thing he needed was her interference.  
"Good." Derek stepped towards her. "Be careful, sweetheart. I'll see you soon." He said kissing her briefly.

"You'd better, moron, or I'll follow you on what ever celestial train route you take and make your afterlife suck big time."

He grinned.

"I love you Derek." She said, squeezing his hand.

"I love you too." He confirmed. "I'll see you at home."

Bea and Jazz looked at each other uncertainly but said nothing.

Derek smacked his partner on the shoulder to get him to move and Jazz started to follow.

"Be careful!" Bea suddenly called after them, her voice sounding small and timid. Jazz glanced over his shoulder and nodded once.

* * *

"This sucks!" Bea said, stretching out on Casey's couch, a large glass of wine in her hand because they were both so keyed up about the whereabouts of Derek and Jazz.

"Tell me about it." Her friend agreed, equally stretched out across the other side of the room in the armchair, a similar glass in her hand.

"Why is it the stupid male half of the population seems to think we need to stay at home when the going gets tough?"

Casey shrugged. "It's the old Neanderthal man syndrome. They think Woman need to be in cave keeping campfire burning while Man hunt. And by "hunt" I mean…"  
"…you mean hunt for his own penis!" Bea joined in.

Casey laughed. "Something like that."

She sighed. "I hate this. It's bad enough the times he's at work without me when he can get called into a situation that might be dangerous. _Knowing_ he's going after the guy who almost killed him…" Her voice trailed away. She didn't need to explain more because Bea knew the basics of the story.

"I don't know how you date a cop." Bea pondered.

Casey shrugged. "I'm not dating a cop. I'm sharing my life with Derek. I can't live my life any other way anymore. What he does for a living is only a small part of him."

"I used to think that about Jason." Bea said wistfully. "You know when he was just a student like me. I used to think that nothing would make a difference. That I would love him no matter what. Always."

Casey shifted round to look at her friend.

"And you think just because you've had time apart that anything has really changed?"

"I don't follow…?"

Her friend sipped her wine. "Does he still make your heart race when he enters the room?"  
"No." Bea stated straight away. Casey curled an eyebrow. "Okay. So maybe a little."  
"Was I right about his jeans?" Casey went on.

"Hmm…" Bea said non-committedly.

"If he was dying and he asked for your help would you do everything in your power to give him that help?" Her friend insisted.  
"Okay…yes. But only after I'd folded my arms and pretended like I was going to go shopping instead." Bea admitted.

Casey laughed. "Oh god! You two remind me so much of me and Derek!"

"We used to fight a lot, even at school." Bea said quietly. "The making up was fun though." She drank some wine. "I've missed him so much."

"It feels like someone leeched all colour from the world and with it all the heat, doesn't it?" Casey commented.

Bea's eyes widened. "That's it exactly! And then there's the dreams."

"Where you dream that you're still together and everything's okay?" Casey suggested.

Bea nodded.

"It's called grief. It's just like someone dying because losing a relationship is like a death too if the relationship was strong enough." Casey explained. "The only difference is there is a cure for your grief. You need to take it."

* * *

It felt like hours while they waited. They had tried watching television, playing a game, but the only thing that made the time pass was talking and even then the conversation revolved around the two missing guys. They wanted to call them, but appreciated that they might blow their cover or distract them at an important moment.

Two hours after Casey and Bea arrived at the apartment, the slamming of the front door announced that Derek and Jazz had also made it back.

"It was your fucking driving again!" Derek moaned as he kicked off his shoes. "At least it was your car you totalled this time."

"The department's. I didn't trust my leg to drive my own car. I thought it would be too stiff and my reaction times were off."  
"And you think to tell me this _now_? Why the hell didn't you let me drive?" Derek groaned.

"Because you were so fucking focused on the guy ahead, you forgot about the people in-between. I had visions of you ploughing down a walking bus full of five year olds or something."

"At nine in the evening?"

Jazz shrugged. "Okay, a walking Nun bus. You get my drift." He sighed and rubbed at his eyes as Derek made for the fridge and his beer stash. "Who are we kidding? We stood no chance of catching him."

"Yeah you're right." Derek slid a can to Jazz who caught it and looked around.

"Nice pad." He said appreciatively. "You kept this one quiet."

"Of course I did. I didn't need you assholes turning up every five minutes interrupting my down time."

"Your playtime you mean." Jazz said nodding to where Casey was sprawled out on the couch. Derek rolled his eyes but there was a grin on his lips.

Casey and Bea had been dozing in their relative positions on the couch and armchair so they were slow to react to the arrival of the two men.

"What happened?" Casey asked when her brain recovered enough to process speech.

"We lost him." Jazz told her. "It was a long shot anyway."

Derek perched on the arm of the chair and leaned close to his girlfriend for a kiss.

"What Jazz means is, he led us on a wild goose chase and then wrapped us in late night traffic so badly Jazz was forced to take a chance. It failed, the car lost."  
Casey frowned. "You were in a car crash?"

Derek shrugged. "Actually, it was more of a shunt. Only two ambulances needed. A real crash involves at least a fire truck."  
"By "real crash" he means when he's driving." Jazz snorted.

Casey reached up to Derek's neck. "Does it hurt when I do this?" She asked worried about whiplash.

"That depends."

"On what?"  
"On whether you're offering a back rub as soon as we're in bed." Derek grinned at her.

She snorted and then frowned. "You lost him. Why are you in such a good mood?" Casey asked suspiciously.

"He dropped his wallet." Derek said grinning broadly now. "We have a name!"

* * *

After food, some more alcohol and a lot of companionable conversation, they all decided to call it a night. Casey asked Bea if she wanted to stay the night.

"I don't want you catching a cab this late." Casey explained. "And you've had too much to drink to drive."  
"Thanks." Bea said gratefully. "I'll grab a spot on the couch if you like."  
Casey smiled. "There's a bed in the spare room these days." She said. "When Derek and I had our falling out all those weeks ago, I slept on the airbed in there. It sucked. I wasn't doing that again in a hurry but I also didn't trust Derek and me not to fight again so I ordered a bed." She looked at Jazz. "Are you going to be staying too?"  
Jazz shrugged, but inside he wasn't as nonchalant as he made out.

"I've got bacon and eggs in the fridge for breakfast." Casey said to tempt him. "And the couch isn't that uncomfortable. Seeing as we women are the delicate ones of the species and can't be trusted to rough it, I was duty-bound to offer the bed to Bea first."

Bea grinned. Jazz snorted.

He said. "How many eggs do you have in the fridge?"

"Enough for a couple of Venturis so there will be plenty for you." Casey said.

"I'll take the couch."

* * *

Casey busied herself getting blankets for Jazz whilst Derek took himself off to their bedroom to get ready for bed. Bea made for the spare room.

So far, Casey's friend had said very little to Jazz since his return, but Casey had noticed her looking at him – a lot. Jazz too had seemed to be hyper-aware of Bea as the four friends had spent the evening together.

Knocking on the door to the spare room, Casey passed Bea a fresh toothbrush and a set of clean pyjamas. Her friend took them gratefully but stopped Casey as she started to leave.

"Case?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you try again?" She asked. "If it was you and Derek?"

Casey paused. "I _will_ fight for this every day for the rest of my life." She said. "I've lived a life without it. I can't live through that again."

They were quiet for a second pondering Casey's words.

"Thanks." Bea said eventually.

Casey smiled and left the room.

* * *

Jazz tried to convince himself that he was comfortable on the couch but it wasn't so much about his physical unease as more his mental turmoil that stopped him sleeping. In the dark of the McDonald-Venturi living room he watched the shadows flicker on the walls and pondered the past few weeks.

He hadn't thought he was content with his life, far from it, but he was used to his life. Bea had been on the extreme fringes for so long he had thought that the past was firmly that – the past.

Recent events proved to him that it wasn't.

She still affected him the way she had always affected him, even now after so long. He still wanted her, he still needed her, and for the first time in a very long time he began to regret some of his past decisions.

The trouble is, how did he let her know he regretted letting her go? How did he make her understand that he had been faithful to her…until she'd accused him of deceit at least! How did he tell her that it had been _her_ face he had seen all these years no matter whom his bedfellow…?

Okay…maybe sharing _that_ one wasn't such a good idea.

He wanted to make things right.

And soon.

"If you try anything on I'll cut off your balls with a blunt knife." A voice said in the near dark. Jazz looked up.

Bea was standing next to the couch watching him, her arms folded.

"I dozed on that couch earlier. It's not built for sleep." She said. "If you behave…" she began and jerking her head towards the spare room, turned to leave.

He leapt off the couch like a shot and followed her.

"I mean it Jason. Behave or else." Bea said as he settled in bed next to her. She turned out the light.

They lay there for a few minutes in total silence and once again Jazz was back to looking at shadows on the wall.

_Fuck it!_ He thought.

"I'm sorry." He said in the darkness, not entirely sure how much or how little he was apologising for.

Several heartbeats later, Bea sighed. "I'm sorry too." She said.

Jazz closed his eyes at the words.

The bed creaked as he turned over, his body now facing her back. Taking his life (and his ability to reproduce) into his hands, Jason Ransome tentatively slipped an arm around Bea's waist.

Her body froze under his arm, but he left it in place.

Then, in the silence of a dark bedroom where the glaring pain of separation lit every corner, Bea slipped her own hand up and interlaced Jazz's fingers with her own.


	24. The Ring

"You continue to touch me there Venturi I'm going to have to retaliate - and given that we have visitors so the retaliation can't be of a sexual nature you might want to _move your hand._" Casey said, her voice only slightly betraying the enjoyment she was actually getting from his groping.

"Spoilsport." Derek muttered in her ear.

Casey moved suddenly, turning around.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." She said regretfully. "I'm just not the kind of girl that has sex in one room while her friends are lying in the next room."  
"Friends plural? I thought it was just Bea in there."  
Casey giggled. "That was because you were out like a light last night and didn't hear the creaky floorboards as Bea went to invite Jazz to join her."

Derek rolled only his back and pulled Casey close to him.

"Oh great! So my partner gets sex and I don't." He grumped.

Casey shook her head. "Oh I don't think they are _there_ yet. If they actually spent the night anywhere near the centre of the bed it will be a miracle! But Bea didn't want him to sleep on the couch, and he accepted her offer. That, at least, is a good thing."

Derek kissed the top of her head.

"I hope you're right. To be honest, Jazz could do with a trip through the sheep dip before they move things onto _that_ level."

"That bad huh?" Casey raised an eyebrow.

"He wasn't choosy for a while."

"Oh."

They were quiet then, just enjoying the nearness of each other.

"Since when did you start carrying your weapon around with you?" Derek asked out of the blue.

"Sorry?" Casey was confused.

"You said you had your gun with you last night. Since when?"

Casey shrugged. "Since I got back from London. When you told me they had been watching you for so long I decided I couldn't afford not to."

She looked up at him. "I'm very careful with it though and when I get back to work I won't be taking it with me."

"No. You were right to start carrying it. You should keep it with you all the time – when you aren't on-duty. Definitely to and from the hospital."

"I have to go through a metal detector every day, Derek. I know I _can_ wear it then, I just…"

"Case, the one time you don't could be the one time you need it. I'll get Spike to talk to the hospital board about you keeping it in your locker."

"Oh great! Like the hospital board are going to like that." Casey said with sarcasm. "They'll regret giving me my job back."

"Casey, it's not your fault you need protection, it's mine."

"I know. But they aren't going to want a doctor with a homicidal maniac after her working in their hospital."

"Fine. Tell them you live in a bad area and you need the gun to be safe at night."  
She rolled her eyes. "They'll move me into hospital accommodation."  
"Just carry the damn gun, Casey." He snapped.  
"I already was!" She sniped back.

And they were both left confused by the whole exchange.

* * *

"I love your egg and bacon breakfasts." A newly-showered and more mellow Derek said, sitting down at the breakfast table. "Some mornings it's the only thing that gets me up." He commented, pouring a glass of orange juice. "Well, that and _you_…" Derek winked at her across the kitchen.

"Sex and food." Casey stated as she cooked. "It's all there is with you, isn't it?"  
"Nope. You forgot hockey."

Casey rolled her eyes as she brought him a plate.

They were equal in their household duties but when it came to preparing food, one of them was more equal than the other. Casey did most of the cooking because she liked her stomach and wanted to hold onto it a little longer. Derek could cook in a limited way but repeated meals of mac and cheese had no appeal for her.

As soon as the food was safely on the table in front of him, Derek pulled Casey onto his lap and kissed her deeply. Eventually he let her breathe.

"I'm going into the office this morning to see where they are up to with the investigation into last night and the trace on that guy's wallet. What are you doing?"  
"I'm going into work." She said. "I want to clear my backlog of paperwork before I go back on shift. What time are you leaving?"

Derek glanced at the clock. "As soon as the other two have had breakfast. Jazz will need me to take him home to change."

"I think he's in the shower now."

Derek and Casey's eyes met. "I wonder if they…" Casey said.

"Me too." Derek replied.

* * *

Casey had already had her breakfast of cereal and fruit so she went back to her room to use the en-suite shower. As she emerged from the bedroom fully dressed a while later, Bea was also leaving the spare room. She was once again in last night's clothes although her hair was damp from the shower.

"How are you this morning?" Casey asked softly.

Bea shrugged. "Okay I guess." She looked up, and then suddenly, Bea pulled Casey back into the spare room and shut the door.

"Nothing happened. I know you know he didn't sleep on the couch but…" Casey's friend blurted.

"Bea, it's fine. You don't need to…" It was almost amusing.  
"He held me. All night. He didn't try anything on, it was all very…_chaste_." Bea's voice had a certain distaste to it.

She frowned. "Maybe he doesn't find me attractive anymore. We never used to be able to lie like that without something happening between us. Maybe he just doesn't feel it any more."

"Or maybe he's so scared he'll frighten you away that he is taking things slowly." Casey suggested.

"Hmm…"slowly" is good, right?" Bea sounded like she wasn't sure.

Casey nodded. "Slowly is excellent. It gives you chance to decide what _you_ want."

Bea opened her mouth as if to tell Casey what she wanted and the latter put her hand on her friend's arm. "Both of you." She explained. "You both need time."

Bea nodded too.

"It felt…right." She said finally. "Being there with him? It felt like being at home."

Casey smiled. "Of course it did."

* * *

"Dude, you do know that the walls in this apartment are ridiculously thin don't you?" Derek asked Jazz across the breakfast table.

"Which would be embarrassing if anything had actually happened." Jazz said anticipating Derek and shovelling egg into his mouth. "Besides, you think I didn't hear the bed springs in _your_ room last night?"

"Any other woman, Jazz and I'd be coughing to that one. Casey however, refuses point blank to have sex with other people in the apartment."

"That's okay we'd have turned you down anyway." Jazz winked wilfully misinterpreting Derek's sentence.

"You have a sick mind, Ransome."

Jazz grinned.

"And," Derek went on. "You're in a really good mood for someone who just had a night full of _nothing_."

Jazz shrugged. "We cuddled. It's no biggy."  
Derek raised an eyebrow. "You _cuddled_? Aw! How Quewt!"

"Knock it off, Venturi! I'm sure you and Casey do the cuddle thing all the time."

"Yeah. We're in love though. You two have this little thing called Thermonuclear UST going on. I know. Casey and I invented the concept – before the UST became RST of course. Cuddling for a couple in our position is normal. Cuddling between you two is like Gorbachev asking Regan if he wants to go steady."

"You're starting to sound as though you paid attention in your high school history lessons, Derek. It's frightening."

"Nah. I did however watch my dad's copy of "War Games" on repeat for hours at a time in Junior High."

"Now that was a movie!"

"Tell me about it! It was one of the few movies the entire family would sit down and watch together when Nora married my dad. The guys liked the almost World War three thing, although Edwin watched it for the geek-hero concept, the girls watched it for Matthew Broderick and Marti watched it for the Tic Tac Toe." Derek sniggered at his own joke and then looked up at Jazz. "What happened last night?" he asked, suddenly serious.

His friend sighed. "I told you. She let me share the bed with her and we cuddled."  
"And?"

"And that's all."

Derek nodded. "You used to accuse _me_ of being slow."  
"I know. I'm starting to understand why you dragged your feet."

"So how difficult was it to lie there without touching her?" Derek speared some bacon.  
"I touched her…just not like that."  
"Exactly. How was that?"  
"Absolute fucking torture!" Jazz confirmed. "But even if she was willing, I wouldn't have." He was quiet. "I need to do this right, D. I'm not screwing it up this time."

* * *

The name of the shooter, Carl Davies, gave them a picture, an old address and a rap sheet as long as Derek's arm. But it didn't give them a location for him or any clue as the mindset of Sal right now. It was a small step forward, but not a significant one.

They still couldn't work out why the guy who had tried to have Derek killed was holding back from trying again. No theory seemed to fit – other than the obvious one of him waiting for something.

As Spring became firmly established and the weather warmed up, Casey returned to work and settled in. Her new boss was a genuinely nice guy and this time when Derek met him they got on well. Casey particularly liked his wife and children!

The weeks passed by, and Casey spent what little down time she had going through the information in Derek's file. The file was large and stuffed with detail, but it was taking her so long to read it because she queried every detail, had them checking every fact. A long believer in the adage about a fresh pair of eyes, she was burning a hole in the page as though expecting the key missing link to jump up off the page.

It didn't.

Derek busied himself at work, closing the home invasion case and a few other big jobs. Once or twice he took a leave day and whisked Casey off to the country. They stayed in wooden cabins with log fires and warnings about feeding the wildlife, and they made love in the warm sunbeams cast through bedroom windows.

In some ways life was idyllic, in some ways it was absolute torture. The uncertainty of the future, the pain of their family not being able to share in Derek's life bit hard.

Nothing seemed resolvable right now. Everything seemed tainted by the past – including the $50 ring he had picked up from the pawn shop!

Derek had eventually bought a pot of the jewellery cleaner recommended by Jazz but it hadn't worked. For a moment he considered throwing the not-so-cheap dirty ring away, but something about how it linked Casey and Derek to their teenaged past stopped him. Cursing himself for a fool instead Derek took it into a respectable jewellers and left it to be cleaned professionally – well aware that he was throwing good money after bad.

* * *

In mid May, something changed. Actually a lot of things changed which made Derek suspect that some celestial being had flicked a switch or the planets had aligned or something.

He should have known something was up when Jazz came into work with the biggest box of doughnuts you have ever seen.

"You got laid." Derek guessed.

Jazz laughed. "Not yet." He said handing his friend a large chocolate-filled ring covered in sprinkles. "But I have hopes."

"I though you and Bea were waiting until your test results came back?" Derek said quietly so that the rest of the department didn't hear, thereby respecting his partner's privacy.

Jazz smirked. "Exactly." He said.

Derek looked blankly and then the fog cleared.

"They came back?"

"Yup. My whistle is as clean as a whistle!"

"Thanks Dude. That conjures up images I just don't want while I'm eating."

Jazz smacked him on the back. "Aw! There, there." He commiserated.

"What did Bea say when you told her?" Derek asked.

"That she was going to take Gamma out to lunch to celebrate."

Derek choked on his doughnut.

Jazz chuckled. "Obviously she wasn't going to tell Gamma exactly _why_ they were going out for lunch, but you get my drift."

Derek shook his head in despair. "So what are you going to bring in when you finally do the deed? A box full of Cubans?"

It had taken a while and lots of small steps forward and large steps back, but gradually Bea and Jazz were re-building their relationship. A lot of the re-construction went on behind closed doors via late night phone calls and quiet coffee dates or just grocery shopping, but at least once a week they also met up with Derek and Casey to let their hair down.

Gamma was still sitting on the fence about it all, having witnessed the destruction of the original relationship. Derek and Casey however, were firmly convinced that this time Jazz and Bea were getting it right. It wasn't all hearts and roses as it had been when they were younger, instead now it was more realistic and therefore stronger.

* * *

"Mr Venturi?"  
Half-distracted with work, Derek answered. "Speaking."

"It's Gregory Pratt from Rotheschilds." Derek frowned. "The jewellers?" Mr Pratt continued.

"Sorry. Yes, of course." Derek said, steeling himself for the news that the little metal ring he had purchased for the exorbitant price of $50 dollars was actually made of plastic, came from a cracker and had dissolved in whatever strong chemical solution they had used to try and make it justify the money Derek had paid for it.

"I was wondering if you could come into the store."

Derek rolled his eyes. _Please tell me it didn't explode and damage property and now they want to sue me._

"Sure. Erm…would next week be okay?"  
"Actually, Mr Venturi I was hoping that you could pop into the store today."

_Oh god…this isn't good._

"Erm…things are a little busy right now. Can it wait?"  
Mr Pratt made a non-committal noise and continued as if Derek hadn't spoken.

"You see our specialist cleaners discovered something and I think it's important enough that we need to talk. Soon."

"We're talking now."  
Gregory coughed. "Mr Venturi. I don't really think it's something we can discuss over the phone."

Derek froze. _Oh god! It's stolen! Shit! I'm a cop and I bought a stolen ring! I'm going to fucking lynch that crooked pawn dealer._

"I'll be there at four." He said resignedly.

If he went there this afternoon maybe he could get it sorted out without a fuss.

"It's worth _how much_?" Derek screeched like a housewife.

"Well, taking into account the appreciation and the sheer rarity of that size of pink diamond we estimate at between 100 and 150…" Gregory stated. "…thousand."

"Dollars?"

"U.S. dollars. I know there is little in it against the Canadian dollar currency-wise but when you are talking in these sorts of terms it is a difference of three thousand dollars."  
"Is it stolen?" Derek asked, suddenly conscious of his career.

Mr Pratt smiled. "Oh no. It's quite clean I assure you. We've checked. It's a platinum band with a large pink diamond and several uniquely cut white diamonds. A diamond of that weight would have been recorded and it was - although no record of its recent whereabouts remains. There definitely isn't any record of its theft which would have happened.

Incidentally, the centre pink diamond has a name. It's called the "Pink Daisy".

It isn't one of the truly magnificent pinks, then you'd have a diamond of the value of $46 million dollars, but still…a small city jewellers like this…you've made my decade!"

Derek swallowed. "I paid $50 dollars for it."

"Then you are a very fortunate man, Mr Venturi."

"It was dirty." Derek said, still confused.

"Ah yes, well it would appear that it was covered in furniture varnish which gave it the appearance of being a golden colour. What this ring has been through one can only guess, but it is legally yours and it is worth a very large sum of money." He took a deep breath. "Which brings us to your decision."

"My what?"

"What would you like us to do with the ring, Mr Venturi? Obviously as a small town jeweller we would welcome the opportunity to sell the piece for you. I can assure you that small does not mean unconnected. I would be able to get access to the best auction house. Our fees…"  
"I don't want to sell it." Derek said suddenly. "At least, not yet."

Mr Pratt looked taken aback. Derek hardly seemed the type to have a need for a $150,000 dollar ring.

"Oh…okay." Curiosity got the better of the store manager. "Can I ask what was the purpose of you purchasing this ring in the first place. In its condition as presented to us it certainly lacked something."  
Derek smiled. "It looked like something from my childhood and I knew that someone special would find it amusing." He answered with the truth.

Mr Pratt laughed. "I'm sure that person would find it even more amusing right now."

Derek laughed too. "Yes. She would." He said thoughtfully.

"Amusing, unbelievable and possibly quite frightening." He snorted to himself. "Just like Casey. How appropriate!"

"Well, it's your ring Mr Venturi and therefore it is up to you to decide its fate. I've arranged temporary insurance cover for you which you will need to confirm so you will be fine to leave with the ring today. I will however leave you my business card and request that should you decide to part with the item you will give me a call. I will be happy to deal with its sale on your behalf."

_Yeah! _Thought Derek. _I'm sure you will be at 2% commission._

He took the ring in its new, ridiculously simple velvet box, signed the paperwork and slipped the box into his inside jacket pocket. He zipped it carefully and left the store.

In his pocket was a $150,000 diamond ring he had bought for Casey as a joke. It had cost just $50. The question was what the hell was he going to do with "Casey's ring"?


	25. Chemistry

**AN: Engage brains for this chapter, please! It's important! Don't worry, the "science bit" goes away pretty quickly.**

**

* * *

**

It was like looking at a section of the cells of a honey bee's hive with all the hexagonal patterns which were imprinting themselves on the back of her eye. Except of course, these hexagonal cells weren't perfect replications of their immediate neighbour: some parts had double carbon bonds, some had single and some were bonded with those cute little oxygen and hydrogen pairings that gave the resulting hydroxyl group its shocked appearance (OH!).

Some of the pairings too were with more complex groupings like on the structure which looked like a caterpillar rearing up for an assault on a juicy leaf. The caterpillar's feelers were actually a combination of a methyl grouping and the abbreviated symbol for a complex ester structure! And never mind the other structure across the page which looked like a frog taking flight!

Casey sighed. It was moments like these, faced with the complex chemical structures of Anabolic Androgenic Steroids (AAS) that reminded her of why she had chosen medicine rather than biochemistry as a major. Even the relatively few hours of biochemistry lectures and seminars that formed a part of her degree in medicine had been enough to bury any love she had ever had for covalent bonding and aromatic hydrocarbons in high school chemistry lessons. Sure there were some parts which were interesting she was sure…somewhere…right?

"Wow! That looks heavy going!" Rosita said bringing her hot chocolate and its accompanying bar of chocolate with her to sit next to Casey.

Her friend nodded. "A bit of light reading while I'm waiting for Derek." She confirmed with irony and glanced up at the staffroom. It was empty apart from the two women. "It's a report from Derek's case file." She told her friend.

Rosita, Bea and Casey had become good friends by now, so Rosita had been included into the very secretive club that was "people who knew Casey and Derek's past". It had been necessary at the time because Rosita had seen Casey freak out when they had been accidental witnesses to an armed hold-up. The latter had sat on the sidewalk and blabbed about guns and not being prepared for twenty minutes before Bea and Rosita had managed to frog march her into a nearby Starbucks for a restorative drink.

"What's it on?" Rosita asked drawing Casey's attention back to the file.

"Anabolic Androgenic Steroids." Casey said.

"Bless you!"

They giggled.

"It's a background report that was produced in the early days of Derek's involvement in the steroid investigation, long before he was shot. Apparently, according the accompanying file note, no one on the team understood the terms that Derek remembered or dug up so they commissioned a layman's guide to AAS. It totally fails in its purpose. It's so technical even I'm having problems with it and I got a 92/100 rating on the AAS assignment I was given in medical school."

"A 92/100 huh?" Rosita sounded impressed. Casey wasn't.

"It should have been a 100 but the professor was off sick so they gave the assignment to his TA to mark it. She thought I was after her boyfriend so she marked me down."

"Did you appeal?" Rosita was pretty sure she knew the answer.

But Casey surprised her when she shrugged. "What was the point? It didn't count towards my final mark and Derek had only been dead two years – I was a mess in all other ways. I couldn't give a fuck about her boyfriend and I certainly couldn't give a fuck about her." She sighed and rubbed at her temples. "I wish all this made more sense though. It's amazing the stuff that works its way to the back of your mind never to be seen again."

"So what are you hoping for by reading this?"  
Casey blew out a breath. "If I'm struggling with this, the chances are everyone else in the original department gave up after three paragraphs. I'm hoping if I persevere with it I might find something."

"Something?"  
"I don't know. A new angle that they hadn't thought of? A missing link to the chain?"

Rosita nodded as she unwrapped her chocolate bar. "Well my knowledge of organic chemistry is limited but if there's anyway I can help, just shout."

"Thanks."

"No problem." Rosita said dipping her chocolate bar into her hot chocolate. She waited a moment, removed the bar, placed it into her mouth and sucked. A look of totally ecstasy covered her face and Casey's eyes widened.

"Actually, there is something you can do for me." She said.

"Oh?" Rosita wiped a chocolate smudge from the corner of her mouth.

"Yes. You can tell me what the hell you're doing with that bar of chocolate!"

Rosita giggled. "It's a Wispa bar!" She said.

"I know. I've seen them before."

"My little cousin in England sends me them a box at a time. I think she thinks we don't have chocolate over here. Anyway, when I was last over there visiting she showed me how to dip the bar of chocolate into a cup of hot chocolate and then eat it. It only works with machine-made hot chocolate - you know the really horrible water-based stuff? I think it's something to do with the temperature. Anyway, it makes the little bubbles in the chocolate bar fizz. The bar only just holds together long enough for you to put it in your mouth and then the chocolate suddenly melts into this sort of velvety mess in your mouth! Honestly Case, it's like a chocolate orgasm."

Casey laughed. "I guessed that much, the look on your face was one that…well…you get the message."

Rosita reached into her pocket. "Here. I've got a box full in my locker you can have my emergency one." She said handing Casey the blue-wrapped bar. "I've tried it with every type of chocolate I can find but it only works with Wispas. It's the tiny bubbles. Go try it."

"Derek will be here soon."

Rosita was up and over to the drinks machine. "You've got time for a quickie though." She said winking and within minutes, there was a hot chocolate in Casey's hands.

Derek entered the staff lounge in time to hear Casey exclaim loudly "Oh my god! That was just…"

He chuckled. "That was something I thought I'd have to wait another half an hour to hear."

Casey glanced up guiltily her lips covered in chocolate.

"I was just…"

"I was corrupting her." Rosita said with a broad grin as she stood and collected her garbage. She winked at Casey. "I know a good website where you can order those in bulk." She said and then turned to leave.

Derek watched her go and then turned back to his girlfriend. "You ready?"

"Just give me a few seconds." She nodded towards her drink.

"Sure. I know better than to come between a girl and a chocolate orgasm." He grinned.

* * *

A few days later, having finally finished reading the report, Casey was none the wiser.

She thought she pretty much understood most of the science. AA Steroids had both medicinal and performance-enhancing properties. Although clearly the latter was more lucrative on the black market, there was still a lot of money pumped into the respectable research labs because of the positive effects the drugs had on people with conditions such as hypogonadism and muscle-wasting diseases, including HIV. Consequently research into AAS was a legitimate field, hence why there was someone able to author a report for the law-enforcement agencies investigating Derek's case.

There was however, the more lucrative side, the illegal side. AAS provided increased body mass and strength which was a boost to sportsmen in many fields. Drugs such as Nandrolone (or "the caterpillar" as Casey had nicknamed it) were quickly banned in the sporting arena almost as soon as they were developed. And the development was pretty fast-paced - similar to that of so-called recreational "designer drugs". The constant desire was for something bigger and better with a greater success rate, fewer side effects and less traceability.

This fact sort of confused Casey. Sal's organisation would not be the only one trading in the latest AAS. Sal and the people behind this case had disappeared: tracking them down would be difficult and expensive. Most government departments would close the case and write it off to experience. Spike hadn't closed the case because he was sure it was solvable but even so it was still a long shot. All Sal really had to do was just wait it out and he would get away with it – had got away with it.

The steroid at the centre of the case wasn't important anymore. So much time had passed a bigger, better version would be available. No one in the original investigation had even attempted to find and publish its structural diagram. There had never been a sample taken and in reality its very existence was just a matter of conjecture.

So why did it appear that Sal was still interested in finding Derek? What was it that Sal thought was vulnerable in his organisation that it still needed protection from any and all witnesses? Derek's ego thought it was because he was a threat. But what if it wasn't him and what he knew of the past but what he meant to the future?

Casey was missing something. They were all missing something.

* * *

Derek and Casey had discussed the case at length, but they tried to keep the discussions out of their apartment. They were conscious that what they had was too important to allow too much stress into their private time. It was very rare for Casey to read the case file at home these days and aside from the inevitable "be careful" speeches, it was rare for them to even mention the case.

So for Derek to come in to the kitchen one Sunday morning to find Casey sitting at the table with a print out of the case file spread out in front of her was a bit of a surprise.

"What's up?" he asked kissing the top of her head and then pulling up a chair to sit with her.

"I dreamt about the file last night." She said apologetically. "I'm sorry. I'm just giving myself an hour and then I'm going to make myself put it away."  
He chuckled. "No sweat, honey. Take your time. It's my ass you're trying to save anyway. What was the dream about?" he reached for her hand and stroked her fingers as they lay on her lap.

She frowned. "It was just so bizarre. Lots of different things whirling around in my head. People, places, names." She smiled at him. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah. I felt you shuffling around a bit and I think I considered asking you if you were okay at one point, but I must have drifted off again."  
She smiled. "Sorry. It's just I know I'm missing something obvious."  
"Maybe, maybe not."  
"I am. My subconscious is trying to rub my nose in it. I kept dreaming about London and my old hospital, and you and bizarrely Steven."  
Derek's ears pricked up. "Steven?"

He asked not because he didn't know who she was talking about, Casey's friend from Medical School was someone Derek was rather wary of. He'd never met the guy but he knew that Casey considered him to be one of her closest friends from the old days. He also knew that Steven's mother had harboured hopes of a marriage between Casey and her son. Aware that the idea hadn't come out of nowhere, Derek often wondered if there had been more between them than Casey was admitting.

He wasn't impressed that she was dreaming about him but he wisely kept that to himself.

"Yes. Steven." Casey said. "It was so strange. In my dream one minute I was being rushed down into the Toronto hospital from the landing pad with you and the next I was with Steven in our hospital in London." She lifted her hands from his and started flicking idly through the papers on the table.

"You should stop eating cheese at night." Derek said.

"I wasn't eating cheese last night it makes my PMS worse."

"That's more information than a guy needs to know, even in a relationship like ours."

Casey grinned at him. "Oh Derek. Be serious! I could go into far more detail than I have you know. I could tell you all about my breasts and…"

He held up a hand. "Casey. You don't need to tell me about your breasts. I know them intimately enough. I could recognise your breasts blindfolded." He smirked. "Get a scarf! I'll prove it!"

Casey smacked at him. "Der-ek! You're thinking with your groin again."  
"It's Sunday morning Casey. I normally wake up to _you_ groping _me_. Instead you're out here reading a medical report. If you want to be a doctor today I have better uses for your skills."

"Is that your way of telling me it's time to come back to bed?"

"Duh…yeah. Next week I won't be able to do this so…"

She sighed and shook her head, but Casey was grinning and she stood up to comply with his request.

Derek smiled gently as she glanced at the papers. "Leave them. We'll look at them after breakfast."

"It's our day off."

"Once won't hurt." He said kissing her. "Come on MD, I think I might be suffering from "Priapism". I need you to take a look."

Casey snorted, but let him lead her to the bedroom. "Honestly! I tell you a medical term one time!" She narrowed her eyes at him. "You have a doctor-thing, don't you?"

"What?"  
"A fetish. You have a doctor fetish!"

"Oh totally. Except it's only triggered by one doctor."

* * *

"Oh my god!" Casey exclaimed later as she came into the kitchen from the bedroom, showered and dressed this time.

"I was good, but not that good." Derek said without looking up from the table where he was eating a bowl of cereal whilst looking at the papers Casey had been reading earlier.

Casey didn't react to the comment. She walked quickly to the table started rummaging in the file and then yanked a document out with a flourish. Derek watched as she speed-read her way down the cover sheet.

"I knew it!" She exclaimed.

"Knew what?" Derek asked frowning.

"I knew I was missing something important." Casey said, her eyes not leaving the paper.

"Which is…?" Derek pushed.

Casey looked up, excitement in her eyes.

"I've met him."  
"Met who?"  
Casey looked confused as his own confusion.

"This guy. The author of the report." She said.

Derek's frown deepened. It was a rather anticlimactic solution to her nightmares.

"How?" He asked.

Casey sat down tossing the report onto the table.

"Shortly before I graduated I needed to do a sort of internship at a major hospital. It had to be related to where I was planning to end up. Steven knew I wanted to go into Trauma like him and I mentioned that they had been short on staff at London and that's why you had to be diverted to Toronto. Steven said that was funny because he knew someone in London. He said they weren't in the Trauma arena but they were on the board of the hospital. Anyway, he made a few calls and got us interviews. They liked us and took us on."

"And one of those who interviewed you was the author?" Derek tried to guess.

Casey shook her head. "No. On the day we had the interviews we had a quick snack in the cafeteria place first. I was in full panic mode though and I felt really queasy. Steven took me outside to get some fresh air and in my panic to get out as quickly as I could I bumped into someone in the corridor. I apologised, he glared at me. Then a strange thing happened. He looked at Steven and the two men nodded at each other as though they recognised each other. I sort of expected them to speak but they didn't. It wasn't until we finally got outside that Steven cleared the mystery up. He said, I quote:

"Thank god you didn't barf on the guy. You and I would have never lived that down." When I asked why, he said. "That would have looked great this afternoon. The fact that you'd just vomited on the guy that recommended you for the interview!"

I asked him how he knew that was the guy and he shrugged and said "That's Quentin Smythe, renowned endocrinologist – although these days he's more into research than clinical practice. He's my uncle!""


	26. Old Friends

"It could have been worse, you know. She could have insisted we drive all the way like she did last time she came to London." Jazz told Derek as they waited to board. "At least this time the journey is quicker."  
"And potentially a waste of time." Derek sniped. "I mean the guy might have nothing new to tell us."

Something was eating at Derek and it wasn't just the thought of a wasted journey. Jazz wasn't sure what it was but he was keeping an eye on his friend.

"Or I maybe right and there is something else we've missed." Casey said putting her phone away and rejoining them. She looked at Jazz. "Bea says to remind you that she's expecting a phone call at eleven tonight."

Jazz rolled his eyes. "Damn woman can't get enough of me." He said but it was with affection and Derek smirked.

"Don't say a word." Jazz warned him playing it up a bit because he was relieved Derek had stopped moping.

"I told you all the ribbing you gave me about Casey would come back to bite you." Derek said, gloating more than a little.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with your girlfriend wanting to check in with you at the end of the day." Casey pointed out.

"More like checking up on me." Jazz commented.

Derek snorted. "And why the hell do you think that is? You do have one hell of a rep."

Jazz sighed. "Yeah. _Before my second chance with her_. _Because_ she dumped me. Jeez! When will she stop being so insecure? Like I'm going to make that mistake again!"

"I think it's really sweet how protective you are of each other." Casey said. Derek chuckled.

"Casey you think anything's sweet. I caught you crying over the wrapping on the toilet paper yesterday!"

"You did not!" She protested.

Derek looked at her pointedly.

"It had a cute little duck on it." She said reluctantly. "It reminded me of a little stuffed toy I had when I was five."

Jazz snickered. "How do you live with it?" He asked Derek.

Derek shrugged. "She's not like this all the time." He mouthed _PMS_ at his friend. "Besides, you think it's going to be any better when you move in with Bea?"

"Whoa there! We aren't at that stage yet!" Jazz sounded appalled.  
Casey arched an eyebrow. "That's funny. I could have sworn she told me you've been looking at apartments."

Derek turned to his friend in amusement.

"_Looking_." Jazz said pointedly. "Just looking."  
Derek laughed. "Dude. When it comes to apartment-shopping with a chick there's no such things as _just looking_. It's a slippery slope. Next thing you'll be required to put a ring on it."

The gate for boarding was announced and Derek turned to pick up his carry on. The action involved him turning back towards Casey who now had her arms folded and was regarding him with an _interested_ expression.

"Really Venturi?" _Shit!_ He'd forgotten she was listening.

Derek coughed. "Or so I've heard." He said and quickly joined the queue forming to board the plane.

* * *

"Smerek!"

A purple and lime green blur threw itself at Derek. He caught the small figure in a big bear hug while Casey and Jazz looked on amused. Then Casey noticed the figure standing off to one side.

"Hello Simon. Nice to see you again…with your clothes on." Casey grinned.

Derek, who had seemed completely wrapped up in his little sister, jerked his head up suddenly to look at the new arrival.

Sensing the tension, Jazz leaned close to Casey. "Who's Simon?"  
"Marti's boyfriend." She informed him. "Marti's first _serious_ boyfriend. This could be interesting."

Derek released a suddenly nervous Marti and stepped towards the sheepish-looking guy.

"So you're Simon." He said with a deadpan face.

Marti followed closely beside him, hanging onto his clothes.

"Derek…" She warned.

Derek held out his hand in the traditional greeting. Simon took it cautiously.

"I gather you're the guy who swept my _baby_ sister off her feet." Derek said ominously. He squeezed the guy's hand tightly.

"Ung!" Simon tried. Part of Derek's work-out routine clearly included his grip.

"Derek Venturi." Marti hissed. "You behave right now. Dad and Ed have already made their thoughts known."

Derek smiled sweetly at his sister. "Yeah, but they don't carry a loaded gun for a living."

Simon gasped in a breath as his hand was released.

Casey rolled her eyes and stepped forward. "Relax Marti, he's messing with you." Her eyes were fixed on Derek's. "We've already discussed this _at length_. Your brother is well aware of certain consequences of him interfering."

Derek raised both his hands defensively. "I'm not interfering. I'm just introducing myself."

Jazz laughed. "Yeah D. Why don't you just say "Hi I'm Derek. You fuck with my sister I'll blow your balls off!"?"

Casey scowled at Jazz. "Don't go giving him ideas."

Derek and Jazz chuckled.

Marti however was not impressed. "Don't ruin this for me." She hissed. Casey put an arm around her step-sister's shoulders.

"He really is only messing with you, Marti. Derek knows a lot about Simon. I've told him about how you met and everything."

She had, however, left out what she knew about Marti's "deflowering" and also the fact that Derek had requested a high level investigation into Simon's background.

Because, not all his motivation had been to do with being an over-protective brother.

Derek relaxed.

"Much as I hate to admit it Smarts, Casey's right. I'm messing with you." He glanced towards the cowering man in front of him. "…although the sentiment is accurate enough."

"Der-ek!" Casey groaned.

* * *

"How are everyone?" Derek asked over Chinese take out at "Casey's" later.

"How _is_ everyone?" Casey corrected. Jazz sniggered.

"You say potato…" Derek said spearing the last pork ball and pointing it at Casey. "I say French fries."

Fearing an argument, Marti quickly stepped in. "They are all fine. Ed and Lizzie are enjoying sharing an apartment and Dad and Nora seem fine with that. Life's sweet for them – although it may have something to do with the fact that Lizzie seems to be showering a little more these days…"  
"Ew!" Casey said. The others laughed.

"Mind you Ed appeared at Dad and Nora's with a composting bin last weekend so I guess the reform act is a two-way street." Marti completed thoughtfully.

Derek and Casey chuckled.

Their (step) sister continued. "Robbie is upholding tradition and was hauled up in front of his Principal last month."  
"Oh?" Derek asked.

"Yeah. Apparently he was running a book on how long it would take the Phys Ed coach to ask out the new English teacher. Rumour has it the only reason why the Principal was ticked was because Robbie wouldn't give him favourable odds on two weeks."  
"Atta- boy!" Derek said proudly.

"Derek… That's gambling!" Casey protested.

Marti shook her head. "Nah. It's only gambling if you don't calculate the risks. I've met the Phy Ed coach and I've seen a picture of the new English teacher. It was a dead cert – and frankly the Principal was a moron for going for as long as that. Robbie was only protecting the guy's money."  
Jazz laughed. "Are your whole family like this?" He asked Derek.

Casey sighed. "The Venturis are. The McDonalds less so."

"And Nora?" Derek prompted with a special smirk, just for Casey.

"Is a swing voter…" Casey nodded.

Eventually, Marti finished her plate of food and pushed it away.

"What's the story then? About why you're really here? I mean nice as it is to see you again – and to meet you, Jazz - I'm curious."

Casey shrugged. "We're looking into the original information behind Derek's case."

"You've got a new lead?" None of them missed the hopefulness in Marti's voice.

Casey continued talking. "Not exactly. But I've realised that I know someone who was involved at an early stage. We're here so that I can go and hopefully meet with them to see if I can dig out more information."  
Marti nodded. "When are you meeting with them?"

Derek groaned. "We're not yet. Casey's planning on surprising them. It's a friend of a friend and she's hoping to use the connection to our advantage."

His sister frowned. "So if it's Casey who is going to talk to the guy, why are you two here?"  
"That's a really good question." Casey agreed looking at the two guys who had travelled with her. "I'm still waiting for a satisfactory answer."  
Jazz grinned. "You know perfectly well why. Derek won't let you out of his sight for a moment; something about not being able to sleep in a cold bed."  
"Jason…" Derek warned as his sister's eyes widened. Marti was ignorant of the degree to which his relationship with Casey had changed.

Marti and Casey exchanged a look.

"Last I heard, you two weren't talking to each other." Marti pointed out.

Casey shook her head. "That's not true. I told you over the phone that we were okay again."  
Jazz looked confused. "You mean she doesn't…?"

Derek kicked him.

"What?" Marti asked. "Tell me. I'm a big girl. I'm sure I can handle it."

"There's nothing to tell." Derek lied.

Casey glared at him. Knowing it would irk her he smirked and then faced Marti again.

"Seriously sis. Casey and I are talking again that's all."  
"She's gonna work it out…" Jazz sing-songed.

This time it was Casey who kicked him.

"You two are mean." Jazz moaned like a five year old as he rubbed his ankle. "I think I'm off to bed." He looked deliberately at Derek. "Where shall I sleep?"

"The couch!" Casey and Derek chorused.

"Really?" Jazz said looking thoughtful. "So where's Derek going to sleep then?"

Casey smiled sweetly. "In my room with me. Marti already knows that we share a room at home." _She just doesn't know that we…crossed the line._

"Is her room next to yours? Only you should warn her about the banging."

"Jason." Derek warned again. "Shut the fuck up or I'll make you sleep in the car."

Casey looked at her watch. "Isn't it time for you to phone Bea anyway? Why don't you do that now while we're all getting ready for bed?"

Jazz grinned and headed off into the kitchen for some privacy.

"Okay if I grab the bathroom first?" Marti asked.

There was only the four of them in the apartment, Simon having left to visit with his parents, but Marti knew the capacity of the hot water tank. She was grabbing her hot water while she could.

"Sure." Casey said. "I'll go next." She wasn't stupid either.

As soon as Marti was out of sight, Casey rounded on Derek.

"What are we going to tell her?" She asked in a mild panic.

"I don't know, maybe…the truth?" Derek said with frustration at her panic. "Sweetheart, don't freak. We'll deal with it, okay. Personally, I don't think it's an issue."

"I'm not the only one freaking out. You didn't want Jazz to mention it either." Casey pointed out.

Derek, meanwhile, had decided distraction was a better approach than discussion. Casey let him pull her close and start to kiss her. And she didn't object when he slipped his hand into the back of Casey's pants, his thumb rubbing against the round of her backside as he turned his attention to her neck. Casey groaned softly as he began to push buttons only he knew she had.

"I didn't want Jazz to blurt it out because you and I hadn't had chance to talk about it so I knew you'd freak." Derek murmured against her skin. She kissed the parts of his head that she could reach. "I didn't stop him because I didn't want her to know. I stopped him because I didn't think _you_ were _ready _for her to know." Derek went on. "I trust Marti. She's not going to over-react." He rubbed his pelvis against Casey's, stopping any backward movement away from him she might have made by restraining her backside with his hands. The resulting grinding action was almost explicit and much as Casey rolled her eyes, she also knew that if they weren't sharing an apartment with two bloodhounds they would be sheding clothes very soon.

"Princess, Marti will be fine with it. I promise." Derek said and his hand started to move around her hip in search of other distracting locations.

"Oh definitely! I'll be fine…so long as you stop doing _that_ in front of me!" A voice said from the doorway.

Derek and Casey broke apart in surprise.

Casey checked her sister's face for signs of disgust or disappointment but found none. In fact, Marti looked very amused at the sight of her brother and step-sister "starting" something.

"I forgot my purse." Marti explained as her reason for re-entering the room instead of going for her night-time shower. But neither of them believed her.

* * *

"A golf course?" Jazz said leaning forward from the back of the rental car. "I thought that was just a cliché." Casey frowned at him in confusion. "The idea that doctors spend all their time on the golf course." He clarified.

Casey smiled. "In Steven's family yes they believe it's the norm. They are all for their appearances and social climbing. Well, all of them except Steven. He hates it. Unfortunately, his mother is a tyrant and he has no choice but to do her bidding. His fourteenth birthday present was a golf membership and he tells some really tall tales about how much he acted up on the course as a kid but golf is actually something he's good at. It's unsurprising when you consider how much money his mother threw at his lessons. Failure is not an option with her."

"Poor guy." Jazz said.

Casey launched into some of the choicer tales of her friendship with Steven and the relationship he had with his mother. Jazz laughed as Casey told of a time where they had sneaked away from a charity ball through the kitchens because Steven's mother had hinted she might announce their engagement; an event which horrified both of them equally.

Derek was uncharacteristically quiet.

It didn't matter to him that Casey had told him repeatedly this morning that she loved him. It didn't matter that it was Derek that she lived with in Ottawa. It didn't matter that their lives were so intricately woven together it would take death to separate them – and even then Mr Reaper had tried once and failed.

None of that mattered. Derek was still nervous about meeting Casey's "best friend from college". He didn't want to see a spark between them. He didn't want to see anything between them, except space.

She looked amazing again this morning in a plain but very feminine shift dress and expensive-looking heels (Bea's influence). The dress was really flattering to her breasts and her hair had a slightly mussed look to it, as though she'd risen hastily from their bed this morning after an extended round of sex. (She had, but she had also been in the shower and her hair had been combed thoroughly and then placed in this style). A memory of Casey, pink-cheeked under him re-surfaced and a small smile passed over Derek's lips. Casey spotted it from the corner of her eye and correctly guessed the origin. This morning had been good, although it had also had to be silent. She wasn't a big fan of sex when there were ears to hear. She was, however, a big fan of Derek's.

"Who are we seeing today?" Jazz checked as Derek turned the car through the impressive gates of the country club.

"Steven. He's the nephew of the guy we really want to see."

"And this guy doesn't know we're coming either?"

"No he doesn't but it won't be a problem. He's a friend and this is his regular slot. He tees off at 7am so he should be just finishing up."

"You know a lot about his schedule." Derek said quietly.

Casey glanced at him quizzically and then answered matter-of-fact.

"He always runs his shifts around the tee-off time when he can. I checked with the hospital."

Derek snorted softly making Casey pull a face.

"He's a nice guy Derek. Someone who did his best to hold me together in a bad time."

"That's what I'm worried about." He muttered.

"You have nothing to be jealous about, you know." She said quietly.

"I'm not jealous." Derek protested.

In the back of the car, Jazz snorted.

"I'm not!" Derek protested. "I'm just…cautious. I'm cautious about everyone these days."  
Jazz leaned forward again. "Especially good-looking guys who sniffed around your girlfriend for a while."

"Fuck off."

Casey decided to leave them in the car.

It had been six months since Casey had last seen Steven, but he was still every bit as good-looking as she remembered: tall, blond and handsome. He was also attractive in other, less physical ways: he was intelligent and had a wicked sense of humour.

What had drawn her to him in the early days of med school was the way he didn't pander to her moods the way that everyone else did. He knew about Derek but he didn't avoid the subject – partly because one of the few negatives to his personality was his lack of filter.

As far as Casey went though, that lack of filter, the ability to talk about taboo subjects was part of what she loved about the guy.

She did love him. Like a moronic old brother.

In the traditional sense of the word.

She had missed him. There were times, particularly at work in Ottawa when she thought about him often. She thought about Derek more, though and when she thought about Steven, it was to relive memories that had a child-friendly rating – unlike the more recent ones of Derek.

For example, she missed Steven on the truly weird occasion that a clown had coded in a trauma side room whilst presenting with a sprained pinkie finger. She had been surrounded with a skilled staff which understood her shouted instructions and reacted as quickly as her London staff. They had supported her with their professionalism and showed their humanity when the case had a sad conclusion.

Even Rosita, however, couldn't manage the kind of crass, levelling joke she knew would have been uttered by Steven.

Casey left the car and strolled towards the steps of the club. It was warm so she didn't need a coat meaning the close fit of her dress was pretty obvious as she walked.

"I'll give you this much, D. She's got one hell of an ass on her!" Jazz said, watching as she walked.

"Remind me to mention Bea's tits next time she decides to show them off." Derek said shaking his head at his friend. Somehow he didn't feel the need to get riled up about Jazz's comments – probably because he knew the bond between Bea and Jazz was similar to the bond he felt with Casey.

If it had been Steven of course…

When she reached the steps though, Casey didn't go in. Instead, she leaned casually against the lowest pillar, clearly watching someone emerge from the depths of the club. Derek could see her hair moving slightly in a gentle breeze and the warm smile of recognition as she watched her quarry approach.

"Fuck Dude!" Jazz said as the guy emerged from building. "He's hot!"

He suddenly registered what he had said and added quickly, "…speaking as a happily-attached straight guy of course!"

Derek wasn't paying any attention. He was watching the meeting intently.

Steven clearly hadn't seen Casey yet. He strolled from the darkness into the light, his golf clubs slung across his back and a set of car keys swinging in his hands.

"Hi handsome!" A familiar feminine voice called. Steven looked up and his eyes widened.

"Casey!" he said making a dash for her, forgetting the golf clubs on his back. They clunked and clanged and got in the way.

"One sec." he said, pulling them from his shoulders and dumping them unceremoniously on the ground. Once unencumbered, he approached Casey and swept her into his arms.

She giggled and flung her own arms around him even as he lifted her into the air.

"How the fuck are you?" He demanded the delight at seeing her clear in his voice.

"I'm good." She said as he lowered her to the ground again. (Causing Derek to let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.)

Steven held her at arms length. "I can see that. Wow babe! You look…completely and utterly fuckable!"

Casey surreptitiously glanced towards the car and hoped Derek had been exaggerating the one time he claimed he could lip-read. There was no sign of an irate cop getting out of the car.

"And you haven't changed one bit. You're still incorrigible." She berated Steven. He laughed.

"Clearly you have changed, girl. Wow! What happened? Are you back for good? What happened with that Mikey guy? Is he still on the scene? If not and you've come back for me you'll make ma's year."

And whilst he'd never tell her, a part of him wished for it too.

Oblivious, Casey shrugged. "It's complicated." She said. "I have so much to tell you."

"Well I'm free until 2pm. You wanna go grab an early lunch?" He asked.

She glanced towards the car where Derek was sitting.

"Erm…I'm with some friends."

Steven frowned. "And they can't come too?"

His generosity was another thing she truly loved about him.

"Erm…yes sure. That's why I came. It's just, Steven, I need to explain something to you before I introduce you to them."

"Oh? Look, let me go put these clubs in my trunk. You can tell me on the way."  
He grabbed her hand and swung the clubs onto his shoulder again as they started to make for the car.

"Come on, spill Calam." He said cheerily. "Who've you brought for me to meet? Some nice blonde with big assets I can take home to mom?"

Casey laughed and pushed against him. "As if!"

He chuckled too. "God it's good to hear you laugh! I don't think I've ever heard you laugh so freely. Whatever happened to you in Ottawa…it needs to keep happening."

She smiled. "Yes. It does." She murmured.

"Oh god, I know that look. I've seen it in the eyes of my lameass cousin when she walks past a jewellery store. You're in love! Fuck me!"

"Your language has deteriorated." Casey said, watching him put his clubs into the car and lock it again. He turned to face her.

"Nah! It's the sight of you looking so…argh! Casey, you just look so…different!"

She blushed.

"Is this Mikey?" he asked softly running a finger down her cheek.

"Sort of." She replied honestly and with a sigh. He didn't miss the slight wistfulness to her voice either.

"You were a mess when you left here." He commented. "The guy must be a miracle-worker to turn you around. God knows I tried."

Casey smiled at her old friend. "I know you did."

"I'm glad, angel." He said. "It was grotesque watching you mourning Derek everyday."

Casey closed her eyes at a sudden remembered pain. "I know."

"Does it still hurt, honey?" he asked with an uncharacteristic tenderness.

Casey was hit with a sudden realisation. She had been wrong about Steven. All the years she thought he had no filter and no understanding of emotions she had misjudged him. He understood emotions perfectly. He also understood that emotions were not what she needed. He did have a filter – of sorts, he let everything through, but it was deliberate rather than accidental.

"Sometimes." She said in answer to his question. "But, it's different now…because…well…"

Casey didn't know where to start.

How do you explain that the death over which you grieved for so long had never in fact occurred? How do you tell someone that?

You don't. Casey decided. You show them.

Aware that Steven might never have met Derek but had at least seen the many many pictures Casey had surrounded herself with, she decided to show Derek to Steven.

"Come with me." She said, taking Steven's hand and leading him towards the rental car.

Derek got out of the car, partly because he had seen her coming, but also because he could see her holding hands with Steven. Casey noticed the irritation on Derek's face and rolled her eyes at him. He pulled a face that said _I'm still not happy._

_I love YOU!_ She mouthed.

And Derek smirked.

Casey was so pre-occupied with Derek's reaction to Steven that she missed Steven's reaction to Derek.

After the requisite jaw-drop as he recognised Derek from the pictures in Casey's apartment came…

Steven wasn't sure how to categorise it: Anger? Horror? Rage?

He had watched one of his closest friends grieve for so many years over the step-brother she had lost. She had wept, screamed, shouted and he had seen that. He had also seen her work herself into the ground to try and right a wrong – to stop someone else's family suffering.

Casey had put her life on a permanent hold because of Derek's death. She had ruined career chances and personal life options for him.

And now it appeared he wasn't really dead! Was all her suffering for nothing? What was the guy playing at?

Steven couldn't think of any reason why Derek would be alive that would justify Casey not knowing about it. Did Derek not _know_ the pain he had (in)directly caused?

Of course he did. He had to know. What did he think of it? What had he done to try and stop it?

When Derek smirked at Casey in answer to her unseen (by Steven) whispered message, Steven saw the smirk as an answer to his own question – and lost it.

He walked straight up to the rental car, swung back his arm and right-hooked Derek on the chin.


	27. Steven Part 1

Jazz was out of the car in an instant and in a flash he had Steven pushed up against the door, his arm pinned behind his back.

Casey blinked and nearly missed it.

Unfortunately, a couple of the other club members didn't and cautiously approached. Casey groaned.

"Is everything okay here?" They asked her, obviously deciding she was the weaker sex and therefore the most likely to be the injured party. Casey could see how it looked: Jazz, well-built and hard-looking in jeans and a leather jacket strong-arming a neatly-dressed, well-coiffured Steven who they recognised as a member. They wanted to support a "friend" (for that read "fellow club member") – they just didn't want to get hit in the process.

"No. Everything is far from fine." Casey hissed between her teeth. "However, I do have everything under control." She smiled with mock-sweetness. "Thank you for your concern."

The guys nodded and retreated slightly, but she noticed that they didn't continue their journey into the clubhouse, instead settling for watching on the sidelines. Casey decided to ignore them. Still in shock, but never one to forget her medical training (especially when the patient was the guy she was in love with) she glanced at the victim. Derek was sitting on the asphalt surface of the parking lot, rubbing his aching jaw. Satisfied he wasn't about to keel over any time soon, but throwing him a concerned look all the same, Casey turned back to Steven.

"What the hell was that?" She demanded.

"He deserved it." Steven hissed.

Jazz jerked his hand up higher and Steven winced.

"What? Why?" Casey gasped.

"He's put you through hell, screwed with your life. I just wanted the fucker to feel some of the pain you've felt."

Jazz glanced towards the heavens. _Not another one! What is it about this girl?_

Casey sighed and rubbed at her temples in frustration.

"I knew there was a chance of a fight I just figured it would be the other way around." She muttered, not as quietly as she might have thought. At her words, Derek narrowed his eyes at her from his position on the floor.

"What? What have I ever done to cause you pain?" Steven asked in disbelief.

"Well for a start you've almost broken my boyfriend's jaw." Casey pointed out. Derek grinned at the possessive comment and then winced as the pain hit and he realised she wasn't kidding about the almost-broken jaw.

"Your _what_?" Steven twisted his head round to stare at her. "What happened to Mikey?" Because, of course, the last Steven knew Casey had gone to find "Mikey".  
"Steven – meet Mikey." Casey said pointing to Derek.

"You lied to me?" Steven asked her.

"No. I didn't know till I found him."

"So _he_ lied to you!"

"No, he didn't. Not really. Some lies were told on his behalf but…" She looked around the parking lot and the growing crowd. "This isn't the place to have this discussion, but don't you think you should hear answers to your questions before you make assumptions?"

"I was being protective." Steven tried to explain.

"You were being ridiculous." Jazz said wearily and sensing the fight was going out of Steven's manner released him. "Seriously, I know she's hot but honestly is she worth the hassle?"

Jazz's voice trailed away as he sensed three pairs of eyes glaring at him. He coughed awkwardly, leaned against the car and continued to watch as Derek stood up, still rubbing at his face.

"What is the punishment for decking a cop these days anyway?" Jazz asked Derek.

Steven's eyes widened. "A _what?_"

Derek smirked at him as he reached into his own leather jacket and pulled out his warrant card, but it didn't put Steven off, (even if it did make some of the audience move away).

"So you're going to arrest me now?" Casey's friend asked.

Derek opened his mouth to say something so Casey interrupted moving between where the two men were now squaring up to each other. She put a hand on each man's chest.

"Let's get ourselves on the same page here _before_ I end up admitting one or both of you to the ER." She looked pointedly at both of them. "…and by that I mean admit you because I accidentally get too enthusiastic when I smack _both_ of you upside the head! Derek, why didn't you tell me you were alive?"

He frowned. "You know why."  
She sighed exaggeratedly. "For _Steven's_ benefit, tell me again."

"Because your life would have been in danger. I was protecting you." His gaze wasn't cocky any more. Casey smiled warmly at him and then turned to Steven with her expression blank again.

"And why did you hit Derek?" She asked feeling like a kindergarten teacher negotiating a school yard peace treaty.

"You know why."

"Tell me."  
"Because he lied to you and caused you seven years of pain. I was protecting you."

"Alleluia! They agree!" Casey exclaimed throwing her hands in the air. Jazz snorted.

"What?" Derek and Steven asked looking at each other.

"You are both trying to protect me, so you're both on the same side. Knock it off with the blood-shed _please_!" She glanced around at the diminished audience in the parking lot as they looked suitable chastised.

"Now, this is what we are going to do. Jazz, you remember that diner we passed earlier and you said you could murder a burger?"

"Yeah."

"You think you could find it again?"  
"Hell yeah!" Jazz's day had just picked up.  
"Right. You and Derek take the rental and go there. I'll go with Steven and show him the way." Casey made to leave but someone caught her arm. Derek shook his head at her even though his hand was gentle, more a caress than a restraint.

"No way. I'm not letting you out of my sight. You do realise the threat we are under, don't you?" Casey suspected he wasn't talking about Sal.

"Don't be ridiculous Derek. I'll be fine."

Steven smirked. "Yeah Derek."

Casey whirled round. "Can it, you moron." She turned back to Derek. "I'm going with him because I'm going to fill him in on the potted Life with Derek plot while we're driving, so that next time he sees you he doesn't try to bruise the other side of your face."

"You're making me out to be a thug." Steven objected.

Casey scowled. "Believe me with the terms running through my head right now…be grateful it's not worse."

* * *

It took longer than the fifteen minutes they were driving to the diner to tell Steven everything that had gone on. Casey abridged it, but not by much because she wanted him to understand her relationship with Derek. When they reached the diner, the two old friends sat in the car for another ten minutes still talking.

Derek watched them from the window when Jazz refused to let him go back outside.

"Don't piss her off, D. He's no threat to you and you know it."

"I can't help it." Derek said simply. He knew if he tried to explain in more detail he was going to come across as a lovesick idiot, so whipped and under the thumb that Casey breathed and he started awake. Because that _was_ how he felt. He noticed her every move, every breath. Their lives were so entwined he couldn't imagine being without her. Since they had become part of each other's lives again he had worried that he would lose her through death. Now looking at her with Steven he wondered if he would lose her the other way.

"She won't thank you if you behave like a jealous prick."

Derek narrowed his eyes at him. "Tell me. How many hot male friends does Bea have?"

Jazz shrugged. "She doesn't have male friends." He said confidently.

Derek snorted. "Dude, she uses bars to find litigation cases among blue collar workers. You wanna tell me none of them are her _friends_?"  
"Yeah I guess some of them are. They are all fifty though."  
"Not all of them. And some of them will have hot sons."

Jazz shook his head. "Stop changing the subject." He said, making a mental note to have a chat with Bea about her "clients" as soon as possible. "The more important situation right now is the one out there." He pointed towards the car park where Casey was leaning towards Steven.

"_Oh shit_!" Jazz finished as they watched the two "old friends" embrace.

To his credit, Derek didn't stir but only because he was too horror-struck to move a muscle. One minute he was bantering with Jazz, the next he was watching his girlfriend in someone else's arms. He didn't see them kiss exactly, but still.

"People who stare through windows rarely see things they like." A voice said in his ear. Derek turned to find Casey standing behind him and a short distance away Jazz leading Steven to a free booth. Derek wondered how long he had been out of it.

"Is that why you did it?" Derek asked. "Because you knew I was watching?"

Casey rolled her eyes. "No dumbass. I hugged him because he'd just apologised for being the biggest jerk on the planet, although right now I'm considering apologising to _him_ for accusing him of being such when clearly you deserve that title so much more!"

She stepped closer to Derek.

"I am linked to you in ways you couldn't even imagine." She said softly. "I cannot be with anyone else. I love you far too much. I need you far too much."

There was so much determination in her voice he didn't doubt the authority of her statement. "You will never have a need to be jealous, Derek. Never. It's me that will be the one hurt, not you. I'll lose." Her voice became small at the end.

Derek sighed and caught her waist, pulling her to him. "I'm not going anywhere." He said in a tone deep with sincerity and emotion. "Not now, not ever. I'm not leaving you through death and I'm sure as fuck not leaving you for someone else. The day you die I'm jumping in the fucking coffin with you."

And he meant it.

They gazed at each other for several moments until a loud voice shouted. "Oh for god's sake Derek, save that emo-shite for the bedroom and come and sit down. I'm fucking starving!"

Derek groaned and flipped Jazz off before closing the gap to Casey and kissing her harder than he had ever done before.

When they finally pulled apart and approached the booth, Jazz looked up from the menu.

"Alleluia!" He exclaimed. "Now. I'm having the Belly-Buster burger. What about you guys?"

* * *

"I don't understand." Steven admitted a while later.

The plates in front of the four of them were empty and they were sitting back, replete and ready to talk. Things were still awkward between Steven and Derek but Casey was sure the danger of a battle breaking out had receded.

Derek shrugged and in a move that clearly showed he had listened to Casey's little speech earlier, he proceeded to explain the situation to Casey's friend calmly, politely and without any sneering or smirking. Of course there wasn't a lot of friendliness but Casey was ready to take whatever she could get.

"Ok. You know that I overheard some discussions on steroid use within my college hockey team? And you know that I took that information to the authorities?"

Steven nodded.

Derek swallowed a mouthful of Coke. "No one understood the information I gave them. I used the terms I overheard and the guys I was telling were no scientists. Anyways up, they decided to get some proper advice and brought in a scientific adviser."  
"My uncle?" Steven guessed. Casey had already explained that they wanted to talk about Steven's least favourite relative.

"Yup. He wrote a report so confusing that we all ignored it and it was stuffed to the back of my file. A short time later, I was "killed" and the whole chain of events Casey's just told you about was kicked off."

"And now?"  
Casey sat forward beside Derek. His hand slid round to rub her spine.

"And now I've pulled the steroid report from the file and read through it." She explained.  
Steven frowned. "Do _you_ understand it?"  
Casey shook her head. "No. Not really. Which got me thinking. Every other part of this whole sorry business has been raked over repeatedly with nothing new showing up. Unless something new happens or something breaks, the only information we have left to trawl through which hasn't been sifted is that scientific report. I can't just say I don't understand it. I have to make sure I _do_ understand it."

Steven nodded. "You want me to take a look at it?" he offered.

"That would be great…" Casey hesitated. "…but I was also hoping I could go straight to the horse's mouth."

"You want to talk to my uncle?" He asked, frowning.

"Yes."  
Steven took a deep breath. "I don't know, Case. He's…well let's just say he's my mother's brother and they were both cut from the same cloth."  
Derek looked confused. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that the guy is a real stickler for the rules. I mean he has rules for the way he dresses, rules for who he deigns to speak to…Just getting to see him will be a minor miracle and you can forget any idea of getting information out of him that might actually help."

Casey's body slumped. "Great!" She said in a voice that sounded anything but enthusiastic. "What do I do now then?"

Steven looked thoughtful. "Look, there may still be something in this report that I can find. Have you got a copy I can look at?"

Steven left them shortly afterwards because he needed to go to work. He took Casey's new cell number and a copy of the scientific report on a memory stick and promised to call them the following day.

He wanted to help them or rather he wanted to help Casey. He wanted to make it up to her for hitting Derek. He didn't regret the action, just that it upset Casey!

It had been a relief to see her looking so good and he was grateful for the improvement. He had no choice to be happy for her and he was realistic. If Steven had been what she wanted and needed then it would have happened years ago when she thought Derek was dead. Now that she knew he was alive and back in her life – and that Derek wanted her as much as she wanted him – Steven stood no chance with Casey McDonald.

But she was still a very good friend and he always believed in helping your friends.

Fuck that! He'd roll over and die for Casey!

The Trauma department was manic when he started his shift, so there was no time to even glance at the report until he was back at home later that night.

Eventually however, he let himself into his apartment, fixed something to eat, fired up his laptop and began to read.

* * *

"We could just get take out." Jazz said.

"Again?" Casey complained. "I can feel the MSG building up in my toes just from the few months that I've been living alongside cops. No. Stop at the grocery store and I'll pick up the bits and pieces for a proper home-cooked meal."

"Take out will be quicker." Jazz pointed out.

Derek smacked his friend on the arm. "Dude. Casey is offering to cook a proper meal and you're turning her cooking down for stuff that comes in little plastic trays and smells like it's come from a chemistry set. If you value your stomach accept Casey's offer."

"What are you planning to cook?" Jazz asked Casey.

She shrugged. "What do you want?"  
Derek's friend thought for a moment. "Lasagne. Take out Lasagne never tastes good. Let's have the real thing."

"Good choice Jazz." Derek agreed. "That's one of Casey's specialities."

Casey got out of the car and headed for the large grocery store two blocks from her apartment. Jazz and Derek opted to stay in the car: Derek because he couldn't risk being seen by someone he knew and Jazz because he avoided grocery stores as much as possible. Casey smiled to herself. She had a good feeling about the relationship between Derek and Steven. Now that they had got all the crap out of the way, maybe they would start to be friends.

* * *

Sam was tired. Amelia was teething and it didn't make for a good night's sleep so he had been tired when he had left for work this morning. It was now ten hours later and all he wanted was to get home to bed.

He navigated the streets of London confidently because he had lived here all his life. The only time he had had to learn new parts of it were when the new commuter development had been constructed and he and Ruth had purchased one of the new build properties. Even then it had taken him less than a week to learn the new layout.

But he particularly knew this area of London because it was so close to where he had grown up, gone to school and played hockey. He also knew it because Casey lived nearby.

Sam drove the familiar streets wondering how Casey was getting on. He made a mental note to quiz Ruth when he got home. There was still the possibility of a short city break to Ottawa to check out this "Mikey" character because Sam still wasn't sold on the guy! Casey had a knack of attracting the wrong sort of boyfriend…Sam excluded of course. He may have fallen head over heels for Ruth, and their life was idyllic but he still owed Casey the level of brotherly feeling that she had lost with Derek's death.

As he drove up to the traffic signals beside the massive new grocery store which he and Ruth had yet to visit, he noticed a large sign proclaiming that it not only stocked every item of food you could possibly need but also a new lo-cost clothing range. Sam's mind wandered from Casey to his current personal quest for comfortable sleep pants. So far he had been unable to find any to match his old favourites which had been discontinued by his normal retailer. His eyebrows raised slightly. Perhaps he should divert into the store and take a look…

He flicked the turn signal on, and turned into the parking lot.

* * *

Casey had finished shopping, had paid and was now manoeuvring the cart out to the waiting car. It looked loaded up and Derek rolled his eyes at her over-planning tendencies even as he opened his car door and went to help her load the trunk.

"There's enough food in here for a week." He commented.

"No. There's enough food in here for three days. You and Jazz are like a plague of locusts when it comes to a fridge. You open the door, and ten seconds later there's nothing left."

"We're growing guys." Derek said with a leading smile. "Besides, I need all the energy I can get with you around."

He was being playful.

Casey watched him placing the bags in the trunk. "Meaning?"  
Derek lifted the last carriers into the space and then straightened. "Meaning I need to keep my strength up." He said his gaze now intense.

"Oh? I drain you, do I?" Casey played along.

They were edging closer, both aware that Jazz was in the car, but also aware that as the lid of the trunk was raised, he could see nothing.

"If you're doing it right, yeah." Derek murmured against her ear his hands wandering the curves of her body.

"Good thing I'm a keener about such things." Casey said, letting him kiss her neck. "I'd hate to do a _bad job_."

"Honey, no _job_ you ever do is a bad one." Derek reassured her, pressing his body up against hers.

"We aim to please." Casey said, her hands on his backside and her pelvis rubbing against Derek's.

"We?"

"My hands." Casey said stroking his forearm. "My fingers." She trailed her fingers across his abdomen. "My mouth."

Derek leaned closer and pressed his mouth close to hers. "You kill me." He said quietly and closed his eyes as their mouths met.

They deepened the kiss and grabbed for each other's bodies rubbing and stroking and… Derek wondered at the idea of anyone getting turned on in the supermarket parking lot.

"Let's go home, ditch Jazz and have an early night." Derek suggested.

Casey giggled and nodded. "Sure…but you get to come up with the excuse."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Hey I…"

But they never got to find out what Derek was going to say because there was an almighty crash.

"What was that?" Casey asked, dazed.

Derek jerked his head to one side. "A shunt. Someone not paying attention to the people parking ran up the back of another car." He explained.

Casey glanced across and then froze.

"Shit!" she said uncharacteristically.

"What?" Derek asked nervously.

"We need to leave. Now!" she said quietly.

"Because…" Derek prompted. Casey turned to stare at him.

"Because the car that ran up the back of the other because the driver wasn't paying attention?"

"Yeah?"  
"It was Sam!"


	28. Steven Part 2

"What do you call a one-eyed dinosaur?" Jazz said from the back of the car.

"What?" Derek asked, confused, as he sped away from the store.

"D'ya-think-he-saw-us!" Jazz said cheerfully.

"Jazz?" Derek hissed.

"Yup?"  
"Shut the fuck up!"

Casey bit at her finger. "Do you…?" she didn't finish but Derek knew what she was asking.

"Yes." Derek didn't let her finish. "He crashed the car of course he saw us!"

And then the guilt kicked in. "Was he alright? I didn't see." She asked.

Derek smiled. _Typical Casey._

Jazz sat forward. "He looked dazed but otherwise fine. I guess maybe the dazed look was shock from seeing you two because the accident was very minor. How do you know this guy anyway?"  
"He's my best friend." Derek said simply, and then when he spotted Jazz's face in the mirror, "my best friend _at school_."

"What do we do?" Casey asked.

Derek rubbed at his face. "We go back to your apartment, you cook and we eat dinner."

Casey frowned at him. He shrugged.

"Casey, what's the most likely thing that Sam would do if he saw you from a distance?"

"Erm…phone me?"  
"Exactly!" He'll phone you. Which number does he have?"

"My cell."

"So when he phones you, make like you're still in Ottawa."

"But I'm not in Ottawa."

"Lie."

"What if I don't want to lie?"  
Derek stared at her. Casey huffed and folded her arms across her chest.

"There are very few times in my life that I have lied." She stated and then looked daggers at him. "And you've been the reason behind every single one!"

Sam didn't phone.

He didn't phone because he put the cause of his distraction and subsequent accident down to over-tiredness. He believed he was hallucinating. Of course that in itself was concerning because no one in their right mind daydreamed the sight of Derek Venturi and Casey McDonald mauling each other – not these days at least and especially not in _that_ way.

He didn't of course tell the other driver this in the aftermath, or his insurance company. Instead he made up some story about a dog darting in front of his wheels and running off.

Strangely enough a little old lady (with appalling halitosis), who gave her details as a witness, backed him up. Then she slipped him a piece of paper with her cell number on it, winked at him suggestively…and Sam decided that it was time to talk to Ruth about letting him wear earplugs for a couple of nights so that he could get a decent night's sleep.

* * *

Steven had never really liked his uncle. He hadn't liked him when the guy gave him a MENSA test for his sixth birthday, he really didn't like him when he sent him an email just before his high school finals telling him he would remove his access rights to his trust fund if he got anything less than a 4.0 average and he positively hated the guy when he recommended someone else for the job in the Trauma unit. Fortunately, whilst Quentin's opinion was noted and respected, Steven really was the best candidate and he had been given the job all the same. He wondered what had been different about Casey that Quentin had agreed to get her the interview at her first hospital.

Maybe he was a closet tits and ass man.

Like Casey, Steven found his uncle's report dry, full of superfluous terms and written more like a meandering trail through a dense forest than a nice straight-forward highway taking you from A to B.

Unlike Casey, Steven could tell that it was totally out of character; so much so that he almost wondered if the report had been delegated to a very junior subordinate. But Steven knew Quentin and the guy was too anal and arrogant about his research to trust its summary, even on a simple police report, to a pimple-faced youth.

Also unlike Casey, Steven did understand most of the report - and it puzzled him. It wasn't so much what was in the report as what was _missing_ from the report. Sure it covered the basics of anabolic steroids: their structure and so on, but the report was lacking in one key area. It only briefly touched on companion drugs. These were the, often medicinal, drugs taken alongside the anabolic steroids which either improved their effectiveness or countered one of their side effects. The interaction between the two types of drugs was important. It should have been mentioned.

And, thought Steven as he scratched at his chin over breakfast the following morning, it was particularly important to his uncle: companion drugs to AAS comprised the main field of Quentin Smythe's research.

Steven knew this because he had spent a few months before medical school working for his uncle in his research department. It was the only time that Quentin had shown any real interest in his sister's child (other than his grades). Steven knew that, though he hadn't shown it, Quentin had been impressed with the quick and ready ability Steven had shown in the field. He had quickly grasped concepts that had taken hardened researchers a very long time to master, applying his new knowledge to the work and offering a refreshing insight into the field.

Quentin had had high hopes of his nephew following him into his area of research, but like Casey, Steven's passion was Trauma. He wanted to go out and meet his patients, not perch on a lab stool in the dark depths of a research hospital reading about them as numbers on a chart. He turned down Quentin's offer of a position as research assistant on graduation.

It was part of the catalyst for Quentin's attempt to scupper Steven's interview at the Trauma unit.

* * *

Jazz answered the door to Steven later that same morning with a smirk.

"Come to hash it out for round two?" He asked referring to the right hook he had landed on Derek the last time they met even as he motioned Casey's friend into the apartment.

Steven pulled a face. "No. Jesus! I made a mistake, okay? Don't rail me about it."

Jazz followed him into the living room. "No it's cool. Anyone can make mistakes. You don't need to call me "Jesus"."

Steven turned and flipped him off. "Where's Casey?" He asked.

"They're in the bedroom." Jazz replied. "I'd say go right in but god only knows what you'd interrupt!"

They both grimaced.

"I heard that." Casey said walking into the room wearing tight jeans and a pretty tight top (pretty and pretty tight).

"Thank you Jazz. You know very well we've been up and dressed for hours."

Jazz shrugged. "That's never stopped you guys in the past." He grinned.

Derek followed Casey from the bedroom and leaned against the door post.

"What's up?" he asked.

Steven tossed his printed copy of the report onto the coffee table.

"It's a pile of shite!" He announced in a mock Irish drawl.

Casey's shoulders slumped.

"I told you." Derek said softly.

"There was nothing?" Casey queried dejectedly.

Her friend snorted. "I didn't say that. I said the report was a pile of shite, and it is. It's badly written, unnecessarily complicated and he's only given you half of the story."  
"Oh?" Casey was sitting forward.

"In an effort to encourage some sort of familial bonding, I did an internship with _Professor_ Smythe back before I went to Med School." Steven explained. "It was before you and I became good friends. I worked on this stuff for three months. Shit, I could write a better report on this than him." He produced the memory stick they had given him and tossed it to Derek. "In fact," he said "I have! It's on there."

Casey smiled her thanks. Derek said "I'll get the laptop."

Steven held up a hand. "No don't." He said. "You can read it later when I've gone. I don't have much time before my shift and there's other stuff I need to tell you."

Casey nodded and Derek resumed his previous position.

"The original report is overly complicated and goes into too much detail in some areas and not enough in others. There was absolutely no need to tell you about the structure of the compounds etc and every need to tell you about the companion drugs."

"Companion drugs?" Jazz said, sitting forwards.

Steven nodded. "It's my uncle's main area of research. He started work on the AAS themselves but he discovered that the _cocktail_ of drugs often taken was far more interesting."  
"Cocktail?" Derek said straightening. "You mean like they do for AIDS and things?"  
Steven nodded. "Sort of. Medicinal compounds work at their best when the body is in the most ideal state. It's like any chemical reaction, success gets affected by the pH of the system, the ratio of each component etc. Often companion drugs are used to correct imbalances in the body so that the AAS will function at its optimum. That's what Quentin's research has been about: providing the optimum environment in the body for the maximum impact of the steroid."

Jazz frowned. "People do research into making banned substances more effective?" he queried.

Casey shook her head. "The steroids aren't developed for the sports market as such. They are developed for recognised medical conditions. They treat muscle-wasting disorders and so on. The people with those conditions rarely compete in professional competitions. Of course steroids can build up muscle on a perfectly healthy person too and that is what makes them attractive to sportsmen and so lucrative on the black market."

Steven nodded.

Casey smiled. She was thoughtful for a moment. "That's really interesting."

"But not hugely relevant." Jazz pointed out.

Steven shook his head. "No. I think you're wrong. I think it is incredibly relevant. I think Casey is right. The answer is in this report – or rather the fact that it isn't mentioned is the answer. I think it is something about the companion drugs which makes this case so important to Sal."  
They were all quiet while they absorbed this information.

Casey let out a breath. "Where do we go from here?"  
Her friend grinned. "Actually, it's where do I go from here. I have an appointment with Uncle Q this afternoon. I'm going to give him the ol' third degree and see what comes up."

Derek frowned. "Third degree? You don't think he's involved do you?"  
Steven snorted. "Uncle Q? No fucking way! But he might have an idea as to what is going on."

"Let me come too." Casey said urgently.

Steven turned towards her and took her hand. "No offence, Calam. But the old guy hates me. He'll use language that shouldn't be used in front of a lady."  
"That's bollocks, Steven! You swear like a marine in front of me all the time."  
"And your own language ain't too pretty either." Jazz pointed out.

"That's Derek's fault."

Steven shook his head. "Case. What I mean is the chances are he'll get pissed with me and slam the door in my face. I don't want to expose you to the wrath of Khan unnecessarily."  
"Wrath of what?" Casey looked puzzled.  
"Star Trek!" The other three chorused.

Derek stepped forward. "I think he's right, princess. Let Steven handle it. I'm sure he'll pass the information to us as soon as he's got it."

Steven agreed. "I'll call you when I leave his office, I promise." He shuffled on the couch slightly and then stood up. "I need to go. I've got to go into work early in order to be able to take a long enough break to go to the research lab."

Casey followed him to the door.

"Thank you." She said as he paused to say goodbye. Derek held out his hand for Steven to shake.

"Yeah. Thanks, Steven."

Casey's friend grinned broadly. "You're welcome. I'd do anything for Casey." He said affectionately and then with a sly smirk to Derek. "Including helping the dumbass step-brother she seems to have fallen head over heels for."

Derek smirked back and then he looked serious. "I didn't mean to hurt her, you know."  
Steven looked at him. "Yeah. I know. And for what it's worth, the way she is now…you deserve a medal for that. I don't have any on me right now, so you'll have to make do with that memory stick I just gave you, and the knowledge that I'm prepared to endure a vapid lecture from my not-so-favourite uncle just for you two…three." He corrected looking over Derek's shoulder at Jazz.

Then Steven turned his attention back to Casey.

"So long Calam. I'm off to deal with big chief stick-up-ass and those injuns! Keep the wagons circling and the home fires burning."

"You're an ass, Steven." Casey said smacking him gently.

He smirked. "Yeah but you love me anyway."

He hugged her close and kissed her hair and then smacked Derek on the shoulder.

"Wait for my call." He demanded.

Then Steven left.

* * *

"How did you sleep?" Ruth asked Sam the next day. "Better?"  
Sam nodded but his wife still thought he looked pale and anxious.

"I'm sorry." He said. "…about the accident." To Ruth at least he had confessed the truth.

"It's okay. Everyone makes mistakes when they are tired and under pressure. You're busy at work and Amy's teething problems don't help." She paused. "You're still worrying about Casey aren't you?"

Sam sighed. "I just wonder if it's a sign…you know. The fact that I thought I saw her making out with Derek. Maybe something's going on with her that I should know about."

Ruth laughed. "Sam. Come on. You've never been the "mystic" type. You were tired, you were worrying about Casey and you miss Derek. So your mind made up its own scenario."

"I was thinking about pants." Sam said, distractedly. Ruth frowned. "I wasn't thinking about Casey or Derek or anything else…except pants. I mean if I'd day-dreamt a pair of tartan bed-pants chasing me down the street…then I'd have believed it was my mental state. But who in their right mind day-dreams their ex-girlfriend making out with her step-brother in the parking lot of a supermarket?"  
Ruth shrugged. "You?"

Sam pulled a face.

"Did Amy keep you up?" He asked her, pressing a kiss against her naked shoulder. Sam had slept with ear plugs last night so only Ruth had been able to hear their daughter.

"Only a couple of times. I think the pain is easing because she doesn't scream anymore, just cries. It's almost as if she's waking up because she's used to it now. We just need to break her of the habit."

"How on earth do we do that?" Sam asked exasperated.

"I guess we change her routine slightly."

Ruth's eyes widened suddenly and she pulled herself away from Sam. "Maybe I have an idea that might help both our problems!" She exclaimed.

"I'm all ears." Sam said, with a grin.

"I think you were right." Ruth said confidently.

"I was?" Sam looked confused.

"Maybe what we need is a vacation."

"A vacation? When did I mention a vacation?" Sam asked, wondering how much this was going to cost him.

"Remember? That time that we were talking about how we were going to make sure that Casey was okay. You said about going to Ottawa to see her."  
Sam nodded. "And?" He asked cautiously.

"Why don't we?" Ruth exclaimed. "Why don't we take a long weekend break in Ottawa. We could book a family room in a hotel for a couple of nights, fly up there…" Sam baulked at the word "fly". "…or maybe drive." She corrected. "We could take Amelia."

"It would be hard to stick to her routine." Sam pointed out.

"Exactly! Her routine would change which should cure this disturbed sleep business. We could call Casey and see if she wanted to meet up which would reassure you about Mikey and we'd get a nice vacation out of it too."

"What happened to "I can't believe you're being so cave-man about Casey's lovelife. Back off or there'll be no sex for a month"?"

"I changed my mind."

"You changed your mind…"  
"Yeah. Woman's prerogative. It's in the manual."  
"Is this the manual your father was supposed to give me at our wedding reception?"

"No. It's the manual everyone know should exist but no one has the balls to write!"

* * *

"Steven." Quentin Smythe said as if reminding his nephew of his own name.

"Uncle." Steven acknowledged, wondering why it felt as though he was six again rather than nearly thirty.

"You wanted to see me?" Quentin sounded surprised as though there was nothing to be said between the two men.

Did he "want" to see the guy before him? No. Not really. They were poles apart. Take their offices. Steven looked around the office he was currently in. Unlike his own messy cubbyhole, it was all too clinical for his liking: a desk neatly cluttered with files and text books, bookcases loaded (neatly) with appropriate texts and a whiteboard covered in equations that made some sense to Steven but he had too much personality and will to live to investigate further.

"Yes uncle." He confirmed pulling himself back to the matter at hand and sitting forward in his chair. "It's about a report that you wrote a few years ago."

"Oh?" Steven could sort of forgive his elder relative for his confusion. Steven had not shown any interest in the research Professor Smythe had undertaken…not since that ill-fortuned internship back when Steven still bought into his mother's ideals.

"Yes. A friend of mine is a consultant for the RCMP and she asked me to read through a report you wrote for the Toronto police eight years ago."

Quentin's eyes narrowed. "I write a lot of reports, Steven, you'll need to be more specific."

_Jesus! The guy makes it sound like he writes hundreds a week. If I'd written this report, I'd remember it. It was crap._

"It was a report on AAS. They needed an overview. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure that you wrote the report yourself. It has a unique style."  
Quentin raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

Steven took a breath. In for a penny and all that…

"Okay," he said drawing out the word. "It was…not up to your usual standards." He said being diplomatic then thought _fuck it! _"No. I'll be blunt. It was crap."

"You've come to my office to tell me that a report I wrote eight years ago and, incidentally, can't remember was poorly written?" Steven's uncle was incredulous.

"Erm…no." Steven hesitated, knowing that the slight "erm" noise would have irritated his relative as badly as Steven's querying his report. He glanced up and Steven saw the beginning of nostril flaring.

"In what way was it… "crap"?" Quentin was strangely calm.

"Well, it was long-winded, had more holes than Great-Aunt Jessie's hair net and confused more than it explained."

"Is this your own _personal_ opinion or that of the RCMP?" Quentin asked edgily.

Steven snorted. "RCMP?" He said in amusement. "I'd say that the fact that the report has only been properly _read_ by _two_ people – and both of those in the last week speaks volumes as to how ineffectively it did its job for the RCMP."

"You understood it."

"I have a medical degree and an understanding of the subject matter."  
"That is debatable." Quentin muttered, conveniently ignoring just how well Steven had understood his research. "Who was the other person?"  
"Dr McDonald."

Quentin Smythe had been in the process of reaching for some papers on his desk. He froze.

"Casey McDonald?" He asked.

Steven nodded. "You remember her. We were at medical school together, you arranged for her interview in London."

"I remember very well who Casey McDonald is, thank you!" Quentin snapped.

Steven frowned at his uncle's reaction.

Quentin's anger turned to curiosity.

"How did you get given the report anyway? It's from a cold case which I believed was closed. And what exactly is Dr McDonald doing reading _that_ report?"

Steven felt a shiver. He hadn't explained which case it was other than in very general terms, yet Quentin appeared to know not only exactly which case it was but also the current official status of the report.

"She's curious about her step-brother's death. She was given access to the case file and like any doctor she zeroed in on the medical reports."

"Her step-brother's _death_." Quentin mused. "Interesting." He straightened in his chair. "So I am still at a loss as to why you need to discuss this with me. The answers are in the report."

"No they aren't. There's little or no mention of the companion drugs side." Steven pointed out. "It's your field of expertise yet you've not even mentioned them. There's nothing about any of the compounds we worked on together. Not even Project Cloak."

Was it Steven's imagination or did Quentin just flinch?

"Project Cloak was shelved five years ago, Steven. The writing was already on the wall for it when I wrote the report which is why I left it out. As for the rest of the companion drugs, they weren't relevant."

"_Shelved_? But I thought that was your big discovery."

Quentin looked pointedly at his watch.

"Not everything in life goes the way we want it to." The professor said. "I was asked questions by the RCMP and I provided the answers in my report. It would not have been professional of me to divert the subject of the report to cover my…shortcomings in research so I left those items out. Now. If that is all you wish to discuss with me I'm afraid we are out of time."

"No it isn't all, I…" Steven tried.

"Steven. I do not have time for your extra-curricular activities. Clearly being a trauma specialist has left you with too much idle time - something I am _not_ blessed with. This interview is terminated."

And with that Quentin stood and left the room.

* * *

It was tempting to search the guy's office, but Steven didn't waste his time. There was no way that his uncle would have left him in the room if there was something to find there. Besides, Steven's mind was a whirlpool of information churning about, threatening to be lost. He needed to think before he acted.

He returned to the parking lot and unlocked his car thoughtfully. Amidst the chaos of his thoughts one fact stood out: Something about Steven remembering Project Cloak made Quentin Smythe nervous.

For a while, back in the days of Steven's internship, Quentin had been excited about Project Cloak. He hadn't shared the details of it but his face had lit up into a boyish humour whenever he talked about it around his family. It was the one time he had seen his uncle look even vaguely human.

The professor's reaction to the research codename today was completely different.

Steven had once sniffed at the idea of his uncle's involvement in Derek's "death", now he wasn't so sure.

Starting the car, Steven pulled away from the lot and out onto the main road. He didn't notice the car which also slipped from the research lab compound behind him not even when, on a quiet section of road it began to accelerated to a dangerous level.

* * *

The message on Casey's cell phone was unintentionally brief.

"Hi Hun it's me. I'm on my way back to the hospital after spending twenty of the most unpleasant minutes possible with Uncle Agony. I tell you, that guy would have the dementors running for the hills! Anyway, tell Derek I hate to say this but he may have a point. The guy's hiding something. I'm not sure what but I think it has something to do with a research project Unc the Funk was working on at the time. It's codename was Project Cloak. As I said, his "thing" was all about the companion drug side of AAS. Project Cloak was like the ultimate companion drug. You see it…"

There was a pause. "Look sweetheart, I'm going to go. There's some dumbass on my tail and I want to concentrate before I put the car in a fucking ditch. I'll call you later and fill you in on…_Holy Shit!_"

And then there was nothing.


	29. The Funeral

**AN: I'm sorry…but it was ever thus.**

**

* * *

**

"How is she?" Jazz asked softly as Derek emerged from the bedroom.

"Sleeping. She took something – some sort of sedative. I wasn't happy about it but she promised it was safe. She said she just wants to sleep." He ran his hand through his hair, worry etched onto his face.

"You should go sleep too. Neither of you has slept for two days, Derek."

"I'm worried about Casey."

Jazz leaned back on the couch. "So am I. But she needs you functioning."

"She's blaming herself. She thinks that if she had gone to see the professor as well then it wouldn't have happened." Despite his tiredness, Derek sat down. They needed to talk.  
"If she'd gone with him, we'd be going to her funeral on Friday, as well as Steven's."

"I know." Derek sighed and stretched in the recliner. "So how do we move on this?"

Jazz glanced across at him. "The case? Well we can't prove it was Smythe. It could just be someone who followed Steven."

"No I know. But clearly there is some link between Sal and Smythe. Who else would be after Steven?"

"No-one. It's this case, without question." Jazz agreed.  
"We need to find out what all that crap about Project Cloak was about." Derek pointed out thoughtfully.

Jazz nodded. "Got any suggestions?"  
"We should take a look around that research facility."

"Dude. Those places are locked up tighter than a nun's unmentionables."

"I know. But the answer is there, somewhere and I want to find it. This case has cost too many lives already. I don't want to sit back and wait while someone else gets hurt."  
"Derek if you go in there it could be you that gets hurt and then where would that leave Casey? She's lost you once and now she's lost Steven who was the only person to keep her sane during your wilderness years. Don't put her through that again."

Derek sighed. "I've got to do something." He said.

* * *

By the time Friday approached, they were at least sleeping for some of the night. Derek had been prepared to fight Casey on the self-sedating thing but to his relief she suddenly stopped of her own accord. Instead she managed natural sleep but only for a few hours a night. His girlfriend started to look pale and worn-out making him want to wrap her up in his arms all the time. He settled for holding her tightly in the darkness instead.

On Friday morning, Casey emerged from their bedroom looking even paler than normal, but he hoped most of that was down to the sombre tone of her clothes.

"You okay?" he asked. "You sure you want to go?"

She nodded. "I just want to get today over and done with." She murmured. "I owe it to Steven and his family, but, I feel like something large and heavy is sitting on my chest."

Marti, newly returned from Toronto, looked up. "You're pale, Case. You need to eat something."  
"Not this morning, Smarti. I don't think Steven's family will want me vomiting all over his coffin. Remember I only just made it out of the room at Derek's funeral."

"Okay, but promise me you'll eat at the wake?"

Casey smiled weakly. "I'll eat I promise."

Marti seemed appeased. "I just don't want you getting like you were before, where you couldn't keep anything down and they had to hospitalise you."

"It's different this time." Casey said, looking nervously towards Derek. She hadn't told him about that. "Horrible though this is it's not like last time."  
Derek looked up in horror. "Last time?" He asked with a sinking feeling.

"Yes. Last time." Marti confirmed with a look. "Casey doesn't handle grief very well."  
"Who does?" asked Jazz coming into the room dressed in a smart, modern-cut suit.

"Wow!" said Marti. "You scrub up well."  
"Thanks. I thought I'd make the effort. I was starting to like the guy and Casey needs someone hot to stand beside her." He winked at Derek. "No offence."

Because Derek couldn't go to the funeral since there was a chance there would be people who knew him by sight present, Jazz had offered to accompany Casey and she was very grateful.

The arrangement had an additional benefit, one which Casey wasn't aware of, and if Derek got his way, one which she would never hear about…or at least not until it was all over…

On another note, Marti was also going to the funeral. Steven had been around enough that Marti knew him quite well. She had liked his sense of humour and the jocular way in which he had diverted Casey's attention from the grief she felt with Derek's death. Like most people there had been a time when she too had thought Casey and Steven might end up together but eventually it became obvious that what she was seeing between them was what her step-sister _should_ have had with Derek. She had wondered why the spark had never grown, until many years down the line when Casey still hadn't got over the loss of Derek, and then she had known for certain when she had witnessed the way her two siblings were together now.

When the time came for the three of them to leave for the church, Jazz took Derek to one side.

"You're still determined to do this?" He asked.

"Of course I am. It's the ideal time. He'll have to be at the funeral, his family would never forgive him if he missed it. That means that he won't be at the lab for the duration. You can keep an eye on Casey and him. If either of them looks like leaving the funeral early call me."  
"How do you plan on getting in?"

"I'll think of something."

"Be careful, Dude. I don't want to see Casey in pain again."

"You think I do? I'm the one in love with the woman; which is exactly why I am doing this. I want us to have a normal life."

"Together?"

"What the fuck do you think?"

Derek said goodbye to Casey reluctantly. He hated any separation from her at the moment even if it was for a matter of a few hours and this separation, knowing what he was about to do, was worse than most. Unaware, she let him kiss her gently and promised him that she would listen to Jazz and Marti. He entrusted the former with her physical safety, the latter with her mental sanity.

"I love you." He murmured quietly, aware of the watching eyes of their friends.

"I love you too." Casey replied. "I'm sorry I'm so upset but I need to grieve. He was my friend for so long."  
"I understand. I know you find it hard to believe, but I liked Steven, eventually. If he had lived we might have been good friends…competitive, but friends all the same."

Casey smiled slightly. "He'd have whopped your ass at Babe Raider." She commented.

"That's disloyal, McDonald." Derek said with mock indignation.

Casey grinned. "But it's the truth."

* * *

Derek waited for five minutes after they left before arming himself and getting into Marti's car. Jazz had driven the two sisters to the funeral in the rental car because it was more respectful, which left Derek with the other set of wheels. He wasn't sure how he felt about the purple, flowered monstrosity. It got more looks than he was comfortable with as he drove down the familiar streets.

The drive to the research facility on the road between London and Toronto took less time than he thought it would; the passage of time since he had last driven between London and Toronto in daylight messing with his memory.

It did take longer than it would for most people though, because he paused as he passed the point where Steven's car had been forced from the road into the tree: the place where Steven had died. Derek pulled the car onto the gravel trap at the side of the road and got out.

He felt that he needed to say something to the man who had kept Casey sane through medical school, the man who had encouraged her to vacation in Ottawa, the man who had helped arrange her job so that she could stay near Derek.

"I'm sorry, Steven." Derek said simply to a spot somewhere deep in the trees. "I'm sorry that she lost you because of me. I don't know who made that decision because I'm not sure I believe in a higher power…" His voice faded. "Thank you for understanding how she needed you and for not pushing for more."

It was simple, it said a lot, but to Derek it really didn't say enough. He tried to put the rest of his feelings into words and couldn't. Time pressed, so reluctantly, he had to turn around and climb back into the car.

The lab complex when he found it was quite small and to Derek's surprise, rather ancient. As he again pulled to the side of the road, instead of being an ultra-modern sprawl of high-tech labs, he found it was housed in a Victorian house in the middle of a large leafy park only some of which belonged to the mansion. He pulled the car back out onto the road and shortly afterwards found a parking lot for members of the general public who were visitors to the surrounding parklands. Marti's car stuck out in amongst the cars belonging to families and walkers – but not as much as it would have done tucked into the verge on the side of the road.

He set off on foot to find the area housing the lab complex.

A short distance from his car, in amongst the trees, he found a well-marked pathway pulling the park visitors sharply to the right; to the left continued a smaller, less travelled track with a large "Private Property – Keep Out" sign. Derek followed the smaller path and after a quarter of a mile or so, he found himself up against the tall, well-built Victorian wall of the labs.

Derek could see how the house had once been the pride and joy of some rich Victorian Canadians. The architecture owed most of its character to the architecture of Victorian England, but there was still the distinct Canadian look: It made the building look of the era, but in a more practical way, without the constraint of space.

Now that Derek had found the wall, it only took him five minutes to skirt the enclosure. Unlike some of the massive modern pharmaceutical sites that existed, the relatively small scale of this Victorian lab gave Derek hope that within its depths he might find whatever it was that had caused so much death.

What didn't inspire confidence was that the walls were very high: the original red brick being augmented with metal panels from eight feet upwards. This was a fact which led Derek to believe that from his somewhat limited knowledge of physical force and wooden brick building with Robbie many moons ago, the walls must be reinforced on the other side, because the apparently thin wall would not cope with the additional weight.

Getting into the complex was going to be challenging.

Conscious of the short time he had to conduct his search Derek only allowed himself a few minutes assessment before he came to his conclusion. The only way he could get inside was to use the old "Trojan Horse" approach. He would need to find something to hide in which would then take him through the gates – and soon. Derek eased his way round to find the main entrance.

* * *

The stocky guy looked out of place in a suit. He stood at the top of the church aisle, on the steps, and fingered his cue cards nervously until their corners bent up and the words closest to the edges became impossible to read. Facing him sat row upon row of smartly dressed people of every age; their faces sombre, eyes often red-rimmed, and amongst them, flanked by Marti and Jazz, sat Casey. She was still pale apart from the slight reddening around her eyes.

"You might not know me, I'm Peter. I was the one Steven got drunk with… frequently. Me and the rest of the gang were the ones Steven went to when he felt like letting his hair down.

Many years ago Steven made me promise that if he kicked the bucket before I did and I was asked to speak at his funeral, that I would stand in front of you all and be irreverent, mildly offensive and ridiculously honest about my best friend. And so for today, I need you to forgive me, because I'm under orders.

Steven was like a brother to me: an annoying pain-in-the-ass who used to raid my beer fridge, make eyes at my girlfriends and if I had a dollar for the number of times I had to clean my car after driving him home while we were in college…"

Peter paused with a sad smile.

"We met in Junior High when my family relocated. Our teacher assigned Steven to "look after the new guy" because at that time Steven was still a nice, pleasant little kid who wouldn't say boo to a goose – unlike me who was brought up on the wrong side of the tracks, mixing with the wrong kind of kids. I came to town with an attitude and guys like Steven should have rubbed me up the wrong way but for some reason he didn't. He was a nice guy who was nice to me, and I guess somewhere deep down there was still enough of a nice guy in me that I appreciated it.

Of course, I immediately set about leading him astray and by Senior year I like to think it was my influence that led to the "Prom debacle.""

There was a loud "Ahem" from the pew in front of him where a grey-haired old lady was sitting primly. Peter smiled weakly.

"…which for the benefit of sensitive ears in the room, I shall not be reliving today, but…should anyone wish to hear the story after the show, I will be available later - for a sizeable donation to the London Trauma unit which was Steven's favourite charity."

There was a muffled laugh. Peter continued.

"Steven and me, we knew each other. We each knew the other's likes and dislikes. I always knew when to give a girl Steven's real cell number or the fake one."

Casey rolled her eyes.

"Steven used to think it was fate that we accidentally ended up going to the same college even though we hadn't told each other what we'd decided. What he didn't know was that I bribed the student counsellor to tell me Steven's choice. We weren't studying the same subjects, but we made it to the same college town and by the end of the first semester we were on first name terms with the local police sergeant."

Cue: muted laughter.

"But for all of the scrapes and scraps that Steven and I got up to as we grew up, it was never a surprise to those who really knew him that Steven went into Trauma medicine. He felt he'd had a privileged upbringing and he liked to give back: trauma was the way he could do it without differentiating between people and their backgrounds.

Steven White was a good guy, a nice guy and the best friend anyone could want – as a kid and as…well as close to an adult as guys like me get."

Peter looked toward the coffin with its single arrangement of flowers (donations only please!). He had three more cards to read out, but he threw them behind him.

"I'll miss you "Tighty Whitie"." He choked out.

When Peter had left the front and there had been a collective, audible swallow of the lumps in many people's throats, the Catholic Priest glanced towards Casey who stood up. She made her way to the front and stood where Peter had just minutes earlier.

Many years ago, Casey had been asked to give a eulogy at Derek's funeral. She had passed. It wasn't that she didn't care. It was that she cared too much. So instead, Sam had spoken, sharing the limelight with a very grown-up looking Edwin – who had promptly disintegrated as soon as he returned to his seat.

Now, standing here, Casey saw the same faces that Peter had seen and she wondered how he had managed to get a single syllable from his mouth; she wondered how Sam and Edwin had managed it, too, all those years ago.

And now it was her turn.

Taking a deep breath she began.

"He found me broken and helped me heal.

He found me wanting and knew my need.

He understood when others did not,

That depth of grief my heart had rot.

He wanted nothing more than friendship gain.

He made me laugh to ease my pain.

I would not be the person I now am,

If I hadn't met this amazing man."

* * *

"Thank you." Steven's mother said softly as she grasped Casey's fingers after the long draining service. "Your words meant a lot to me. I know you and Steven felt like I pushed too much, and maybe I did, but I was always proud of him."

Casey regarded the lady in front of her and jointly wished that Steven could be there to see her, and rejoiced that he could not. This was the woman Steven loved first in his life and yet felt repeatedly that he had failed, and Casey could see clearly now that was not the case. Steven had believed that his mother was indifferent to him, but the woman before her was broken into pieces of grief that Casey recognised.

Mrs White grieved for her child not the future which had he had denied her.

"He loved you." Casey said simply.

"I love him." said his mother. "And he loved you."

Casey smiled. "I loved him too, but he met me when my heart was already someone else's and he was wise enough to understand that."

"Even when I did not. Steven only told me recently, about your brother…sorry, _step_-brother. I hadn't known. I'm sorry Casey. I guess I was just so used to you laughing around Steven that I ignored the pain in your eyes."

"It's okay. It wasn't something I liked to talk about very much."

"Does it get better?" Mrs White asked. "The grief I mean." She asked because it was important to her personally.

Casey sighed. "You learn to manage it. You learn to get up in the morning. But it's always there. I won't forget Steven, you know. He was a big part of my life for a long time and I'll always remember him."

"I know. Thank you."

They parted company and, wondering if maybe she had misjudged Steven's family, Casey made her way over to Marti who had just been listening to Peter tell the story of the "Prom Debacle" – for a fifty dollar donation of course.

"Apparently, Peter has had to tell the story twenty times already." Marti informed her sister when Peter had finished and moved on. "Do you think Steven would have minded?"

Casey snorted. "Hell no! He'd have charged them $100 each."

"Are you okay?"

Casey nodded. "I'm better now the service is over. I might even have something to eat."

Marti smiled. "I worried about you today…after last time."

"It's a different pain, Marti. It's the reason why I was never with Steven like that. I'm upset – distraught even – but it's nothing like the utter despair of losing Derek."

Her sister nodded. "It's weird going to a funeral now. I noticed it when I went to the funeral of Simon's friend. You appreciate what the people around you are really suffering. They probably haven't even noticed that we are here, not really. They talk to us and nod to us, but the reality is it will take weeks before they really recall what we said to them in passing today."

Jazz made his way over to them. He was eating.

Casey rolled her eyes. "Hungry?"

He grinned. "You guys should try the food. It's good. They have these little vol-au-vents things filled with some sort of mushroom paste which is just…"

Marti grabbed at Casey's arm. "Come on sis. Let's go get something to eat and leave Jazz to his intimate moment with the pastries."

Casey followed although her heart wasn't in it.

"They're good, aren't they?"

Jazz glanced up from his plate to see Peter standing beside him.

"Mmmm…ugh…mmm." Jazz tried with his mouth full. Peter laughed.

"Sorry. Caught you unawares."

Jazz cleared his mouth quickly. "S'ok. They are really good and I couldn't resist taking far too many."

Peter nodded. "Steven would have done the same. He'd have said something like "Pass the Jack and give me a plate of those mushroom things. Let's have a party!"

"Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

There was a pause. "You're here with Case?" Peter asked. He was Steven's best friend so he knew Casey very well. He hadn't had chance to speak to her yet and as he hadn't spoken to Steven in the days leading up to his death, he was surprised to see Casey looking (relatively) better than he was used to.

"Erm…yeah. I was staying with her when we got the news. She wanted some moral support." Jazz told the truth.

Peter nodded. "So you and she…?" he queried.

Jazz laughed and shook his head. "Nah. I have a girlfriend, and Casey's boyfriend would bust my ass if I even thought about it."

Peter's eyes widened. "She's seeing someone?"

Jazz nodded. "Mikey." He said using Derek's old cover.

"Is it serious?"

Jazz was thoughtful. "It's pretty alarming but I guess you mean will it last? …yes. Ripping those two apart would be tough."

"Oh." Jazz could see Peter wondering.

"Steven knew." Jazz said quietly. "We saw him several times just before his death. We saw him just hours before his death."  
Peter looked surprised. "And how did he take it? The news that Casey had moved on from her past?"

"He was pleased, I think, for her. She's happy." He paused. "She _was_ happy, until this. Steven was the one that encouraged her to go and meet Mikey; arranged for Casey to transfer to Ottawa. Of course, Steven also punched him in the face when he met him so…"

Peter laughed.

"All's fair…"

"Yeah." Jazz looked at Peter. "Steven was a nice guy."

"He was. Very straight. A good one in a family of…" For Steven's sake, Peter didn't finish.

"Casey said his mom was a bit pushy."

"Yeah. Although, I'm starting to realise that she was under pressure herself, from the rest of his family."

"Oh?"  
"That uncle of his was a tyrant."

"Quentin?" Jazz checked.

Peter nodded. "You met him?"  
"No." _Not yet._ Jazz added silently. _Although I have been watching him for the past hour and a half._

"He's a first-class jerk-off. The guy has no personality whatsoever. Did Casey tell you what he got Steven for his sixth birthday?"

"Something about Mensa." Jazz said.

"Yeah. Like I said, the word "asshole" is too good for him."

It was at this point that Jazz realised that he hadn't seen Quentin for a while.

"Where is he anyway?"  
"Quentin? Oh…well that's just another example of what a fine, lovable man he is. He's gone back to work."

Jazz paled, cursing his stomach for distracting him because there was food around when he needed to be watching Derek's back. "When?"

Peter shrugged. "About fifteen minutes ago, why? Did you want to speak to him? Believe me, he isn't worth the effort."

Jazz swore colourfully. "Peter, it's been great chatting, but I need to go."

Confused, Peter just nodded…

…and watched as a frantic Jazz ran towards the food tables in search of Casey.

* * *

**AN: Time for one of those disruptive annoying history/geography lessons that I haven't given for a while.**

**England is small (in comparison to Canada). **

**State the bleeding obvious I know, but it's important for the understanding of the whole Victorian architecture thing. In Victorian England there were/are some really large buildings, such as St Pancras Station, but, (and this is my personal opinion), I think the Victorians were starting to understand the concept of overcrowding. The cities were full of slums, the drainage was inadequate (although they did have some) and in the cemeteries they operated a tier-ed burial system – meaning that some cemeteries were so overcrowded that they buried one coffin on top of the other!**

**The previous generation had more space so Georgian architecture is clean and spacious, Victorian architecture and furnishings were busy and fussy. With the Victorians it was all about cramming it in.**

**So when I talk about the mansion being Victorian but with a Canadian simplicity what I mean is that the external decorations were English Victorian in appearance, but with the Canadian spaciousness inside.**


	30. The Wake

It could have been worse, but right now, Derek was struggling to think of how.

His "Trojan horse" turned out to be a flat bed truck filled with organic fertiliser of the kind that the RCMP stables produce rather a lot of. Apparently, the gardener liked his roses.

After a moment's hesitation, Derek managed to haul himself up into the truck bed without actually touching much of the organic mess, climbing into a pile of tarpaulin sheets and then pulling them over him. Tarpaulin stinks however, and he spent most of the short ride in through the gates wondering which smelled worse: horse shit or sweating canvas. The journey through the gates was probably only a couple of minutes long, but it felt like forever.

Eventually the gardener abandoned his truck at the side of the large building, slipping from its cab and heading off towards a shed hidden in the trees, probably to get a wheelbarrow and shovel. It gave Derek chance to escape, wondering as he did so if the guy had no sense of smell.

He chose the side of the truck furthest from the main entrance and slipped quietly over the side, his Converse trainers making the tiniest of crunches as he landed on the gravel of the drive. Then, before anyone could spot him, he sprinted to the opposite side of the house from the gardener, wanting somewhere to think about his best approach.

* * *

Casey was staring miserably at the food before her. There was no way she was going to be able to eat anything, yet the stubborn young lady beside her was determined something should pass her lips.

"Come on Case. Bread and _real_ butter? That French bread looks lovely. And what about the seafood platter? Smoked salmon and prawns. Oo! They have mini quiches!"

Casey took a wedge of the bread and some butter just to stop Marti from listing every single item on the long buffet table.

"Now you need to eat it." Her sister said, triumphantly tilting her head.

"I'm going to eat it." Casey insisted. "But you do know it's hard to swallow when someone is watching you like a hawk."

Marti raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I find." She quipped back with a smirk.

After a second's pause during which Casey's dulled eyes widened, she choked out, "Marti…that's just…seriously. I thought you wanted me to eat not vomit."  
"Your prudish tendencies are showing, Casey McDonald." Marti sing-songed.

"They are not."

"They so are! I make a comment that may or may not be a little…"

"A lot…" Casey interjected.

"Seriously? So what…you behaving like a prim and proper virgin now?"  
"Marti, when it comes to sex, there are some things you discuss with your sister…_step_-sister and there are some subjects you avoid."

"You talked to me about losing my virginity before." Marti pointed out.

"Because I felt as a doctor it was in your interests for me to provide a suitable adult role model. Now _it_ is a lost cause I don't need to know the "ins and outs"." Casey's mouth twitched slightly at her unintentional pun.  
"You got pissed and lost yours to a guy whose name you don't even know! What kind of role model is that?" Marti asked with glee. Casey began to regret sharing so much with Marti.

"That was "role model" as in the "do as I say not as I do" mould." She noted.

"Pth!" was Marti's considered opinion. "I just made a comment with a double entendre about oral sex. There was no need for you to start rolling out your sexually repressed nature."

"I just think that sex, once you are having it, is something that should remain private. That does not make me sexually repressed!"

"Could have fooled me!" Marti said with a snigger.

Casey smiled sweetly. "Marti, honey. I am not sexually repressed. Just because I don't like cheap jokes about sex does not mean I don't like sex." She paused and muttered quietly. "I could tell you tales about _my_ sex life that would curl your hair."

"I've always wanted curly hair." Marti grinned at her.

"So you have a choice. Stick your finger in a power socket or listen to how un-repressed my sexuality is," Casey said matter-of-fact.

"….which of course would mean hearing – in detail – about how unrepressed your _brother's_ sex life is. Fancy hearing about My Sex Life With Derek?" Casey raised an eyebrow, and then when Marti didn't answer, "You know he does this thing…" she started with mock enthusiasm.

Marti pulled a vomit face. She knew her brother was in love with the girl standing next to her, and Casey was one of her closest friend but even the thought of what Derek and Casey got up to behind close doors was just…

She shivered!

"That won't be necessary." She said firmly.

Casey grinned and relaxed. "And that is exactly my point. It's one thing to know your sibling is sexually active, it's another to hear details about it. Let's keep the sharing to matters of a medical nature shall we? And that includes the stuff about swallowing."

Marti nodded. "Agreed." She confirmed…and then (because she was after all a Venturi) with a very Derek-like twinkle,

"So I take it _you_ don't? Swallow, I mean."

There was a pause whilst Casey tried to come up with a retort, but she was saved from replying by the sudden arrival of a frantic Jazz.

* * *

Getting into the main building was easier than Derek had thought. For an organisation that was probably on the radar of animal rights extremists their approach to security was decidedly lacking. The main gate had been heavily guarded. Likewise the entrance at the front had some sort of fancy screening system and two heavy-set guards. But, the older main building clearly suffered from air conditioning problems because on the side at the second floor level the door onto the fire escape was propped open with a fire extinguisher.

The metal gate in the caged base of the fire escape was also alarmed, but Derek was not adverse to a bit of climbing – even if he had promised Casey he wouldn't following the scaffolding and rock-climbing incidents. This was different.

He hauled himself up over the cage and again higher to the point where the cage ended and access to the stairs was open. Then he dropped from the roof of the cage to the wrought iron step with a small clang and sprinted up the remaining steps the short distance to the door.

Derek hung back from the opening and listened for the sounds of the people inside. After a few moments of an almost silence filled only with the hum of electronic equipment, he stuck his head around the door frame.

The room was quite large, rectangular and filled from floor to ceiling with computers.

It was otherwise empty so he took the opportunity to slip inside.

* * *

"Hi Jazz!" Marti said cheerfully as Derek's partner appeared. "Vol-au-vent?"

"What's wrong?" Casey asked immediately her Derek-sense immediately detecting the worry in his best friend's face.

"Quentin's left." Jazz said.

Marti frowned. "He probably hates funerals. Most people do."

Casey wasn't buying it though. "Why does the fact that he's left make you look like you're about to have a coronary?"  
Jazz hesitated. But Casey knew.

"Derek's doing something stupid isn't he?" She asked with a rising panic.

"I…" Jazz started.

"What is it, Jazz? What's the stupid idiot doing?" She demanded.

"He thought that while Quentin was here at the funeral, _he_ should go and check out the labs." He admitted reluctantly.

"He did _what_?" Casey screeched, putting down her plate and causing several of the other mourners to turn her way. Smiling apologetically, she manoeuvred Jazz off to one side.

"Is he still there?" Marti, following, asked with concern.

Jazz nodded and lowered his voice. "I tried phoning him but he must be in a blind spot because his phone keeps going to voicemail."

"How far to the labs?" Casey demanded suddenly but still quietly.

"From here? About forty five minutes." Derek and Jazz had looked it up on the internet when they were trying to work out if Derek would have time to search the labs.

"When did Quentin leave?"

"About twenty minutes ago."  
Casey's eyes widened in horror and she started for the door. Jazz and Marti followed after her.

"Where are you going?" Jazz asked.

She glanced over her shoulder. "To the labs. He's got a head start on us but if we hurry…"

"I was just about to go." Jazz confirmed. "But _you_ need to stay here."  
"No. I don't." Casey didn't break her stride. Jazz followed behind her, hissing at her in a low tone.

"Casey. This guy is involved in murder."

"So was Papillion." She hissed back.

"But Quentin is involved with _Sal_."

Casey rounded on him. "Look Jazz, I appreciate the concern but the longer you argue with me the longer it will take us to get to Derek. I've been through the basic RCMP training and I'm a pretty good shot. You need back up and I'm it. My entire future is depending on this so I'm going whether you like it or not."

Jazz gave up, knowing that she was right.

They reached the rental car in the outside lot shortly afterwards and Casey held her hand out for the keys.

"I'm driving." Jazz objected.

"No. You're not. You need to call Spike. I'll drive."  
"Casey you drive like a granny." He groaned.

"You've been talking to Derek. He's not seen me drive in earnest before. Believe me, I'm in earnest now."

Marti huffed from behind them. "Can you two shut the fuck up and let's get going?"  
Casey turned to her sister. "_You're_ not coming."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not. You're going back to my apartment to wait for news. It's the only fixed line we have. Derek might phone there."

"But I…" Marti protested.

"Marti. I need someone to be on the outside keeping track, okay? I'll call you when I can."

Jazz nodded. "She's right, Marti. Get a cab back to the apartment. We'll call."

Marti groaned and stamped her feet.

"That's just freaking typical! Treat me like a six-year old why don't you?"

But they were already getting into the car.

* * *

It was hot in the computer lab. Derek could understand why the door was left open.

What he didn't understand why there wasn't some sort of fancy air conditioning system in there though. Weren't computers supposed to be kept cool?

Instead, the largely elderly computers looked as though they were haphazardly laid out, on rough and ready desks groaning under the weight of ancient technology.

Derek frowned. Wasn't this supposed to be a multi-million dollar set-up? Wasn't it supposed to generate large amounts of cash from its research into muscle-wasting diseases? Didn't it receive millions in grants from the Government?

Deciding that he had probably stumbled across an ancient payroll system or something, he left the room by the one remaining door in the opposite wall. It led out to a deserted corridor whose walls had been clad with large sheets of plasterboard to make them appear more streamlined. It gave the space a rather temporary feel, which considering the age of the building was ironic.

Derek moved down the corridor quickly, trying door handles. Most of the rooms on this floor were unlocked so he got to see inside them. They were deserted, so there were no awkward moments where he was forced to hide from staff. Like the corridors and the first lab, these were also decorated to hide their age. Aside from one further computer lab, they all appeared to be storage rooms for computer tape. The tape, cryptically labelled, was the old-fashioned DAT cassette sort: rectangular and smaller than a cigarette packet. It made searching much more straight forward because Derek had no way of viewing the contents. The servers with the appropriate tape slots were located in the first room he had entered – and every single one of them had a monitor which when activated showed the server was password-protected. Consequently, when he found a room with tape, he didn't waste his time searching the tape racks, instead he concentrated on the small number of filing cabinets. Some of these were locked but he got around that.

None of them held any information he could use. It was all back-up schedules and system upgrades.

Eventually, he had covered the entire floor so he paused by the elevators to think.

This floor was clearly some sort of server set-up. The technology was old, running the old NT Server software by the looks of things. Derek liked technology. He didn't have an extensive knowledge of computers but he knew more than most non-professionals. What he knew about NT Server came from his old geek days of hanging around the computer labs in junior high. He just didn't know enough to hack into one of the machines.

It did mean, however, that he knew something about what the computers were doing. They were clearly just file servers providing somewhere for people to store their word documents. They weren't modelling complex chemical structures.

In other words, they had little to do with the production of steroids or their companion drugs.

* * *

"Jesus woman! Slow down!" Jazz screeched, clinging onto the "Holy Shit!" handle for dear life. "No boss," He said into his phone. "That wasn't aimed at you. Casey's driving like a freaking loon!"

"You're the one that let him go off on this jaunt." Casey commented. "If you'd both involved me in this discussion I wouldn't be racing to the labs right now."

"No. I know." Jazz said into the phone again. "You might want to warn Traffic about her. She's fucking lethal."  
Casey snorted. "Oh grow up!"

Jazz watched as she hit 100mph on the highway.

"Casey. If we get pulled by the locals, you're on your own honey."

"Pft!"  
"Casey. They'll "stinger" your tyres and when you're forced to stop, they'll arrest you and then where will Derek be?"

Casey eased off the gas, but only slightly.

"I can't believe you let him do this." She said bitterly.

"Neither can I. He was persuasive. I can't believe the fucker left me to deal with "Angry Casey"."

Casey snorted. "You mean he was Derek. That's never an excuse. It's all in the handling."

Jazz rolled his eyes. "I don't have the powers of persuasion that you do." He smirked.

"Yeah like he'd listen to me."

"Casey, he'd roll over and beg for you. But yeah…you're right. He probably wouldn't listen to you."

* * *

Casey drove on with slightly less haste and Jazz finished his call to Spike.

"He's going to have a team on standby, but we can't go in until we have probable cause." Jazz said as he got off the phone. "He told me to make sure we stay outside the compound."  
"What?" Casey glanced at him in disbelief.

"Relax! I have no intention of doing that."

"So how are we going to get in there?" Casey asked.

"You know, that's a really good question."

He had taken a white lab coat from a hook in the final room on the computer floor which appeared to be a cloakroom, and now slipping it on as he entered the elevator Derek looked at the floor directory on the wall. He could see he had come into the building on the middle level of a three-floor building. The question was did he go up or down next?

Derek decided to go down. It was likely to be more populated but the rooms were bigger and held more promise of evidence.

Fifteen wasted minutes later, and a couple of near-misses with white-coated scientists he entered the companion elevator and selected the top floor.

Things were not adding up Derek told himself as he rode in the small box. He had come to the site expecting to see expensive, well-run laboratories with lots of white-coated staff but so far all he had seen were old dilapidated rooms full of ancient equipment, staff wandering around in jeans and the types of lab coat which you wore in high school chemistry. There was no sign of the many millions he was sure had been funnelled towards the steroid research.

Confused, he reminded himself that the whereabouts of the money was not the reason why he was there; he was here to find out about Steven's death and his own half-life. He had to press on and dig deeper.

The elevator was like the rest of the building – inadequate and ancient. It was small and noisy, making him wince at the noise and the renewed possibility of being discovered. It was with some trepidation that he emerged minutes later onto the top floor.

This floor was similar in décor to the previous level. There was nothing extravagant about it. Once again the walls were lined with plasterboard, showing nothing of the original shape and tone of the building. There were more rooms up here: smaller office-like and labelled with people's names. They also had people in them which meant Derek couldn't enter them.

Every step in this building had Derek thinking he was on a wild-goose chase. Every inch of this place was plain, boring and, although clearly "non-profit-making", well above board. He sighed and scratched at his head.

And then he saw the name plate on the door.

"Professor Quentin Smythe, Director of Research."

* * *

"So tell me about this place that we're going to." Jazz said to Casey as the rental ate up the miles at an eye-watering pace.

"I don't know that much about it." Casey admitted. "Only the stuff that Steven told me in passing – and as he and his uncle don't…didn't get on that wasn't much. I guess, knowing what we do now, that most of his knowledge came from his time here as a research assistant."

"So it's like a big research lab though, right?"

Casey shook her head. "It's not what most people would class as "big". Not compared to GlaxoSmithLine or Pfizers or somewhere. It's just a large Victorian mansion which Smythe inherited and decided to turn into a research facility."

"He inherited it?"

"Yeah. Some great-great-uncle was a Victorian eccentric and insisted on building a great monstrosity to rival one of the larger English-Victorian follies. It's apparently an ugly great building - all imported red stone and gothic finials. Anyway, apparently the guy was really really shady and this was the centre of his operations."

"No change there then." Jazz added wryly. Casey smiled.

"We don't actually know that Quentin was involved in Steven's death – or Derek's for that matter." She pointed out, although her foot didn't ease off the gas.

"I know but the chances of it being otherwise are slim. Don't you think?"  
Casey hummed in answer.

"Anyway, calling the building "research labs" is more a reflection of what work is produced in the lab's name than the elaborate nature of the labs. Most people with half a brain would have purpose-built facilities. I don't know how Quentin manages to operate from the dated facilities that Steven described."

"You've never seen the building though? Maybe Steven was exaggerating."

"Maybe." Casey agreed.

"You know it would have been good if Derek had known this before he went." Jazz mused.

Casey sighed. "That's just Derek. He's never been one for sharing information with me voluntarily."

"And do you tell him everything?" Jazz asked pointedly.

"No." Casey said in a very quiet voice. "No. I don't."

* * *

Derek tried the door handle to the office, but it was locked. He cursed and slipping his wallet from his back pocket knelt down to rectify that. Seconds later a small click announced that he had been successful with his lock-picking and rising once again to his feet, he twisted the door handle and entered the room.

It was a large room, as would be expected of the Director, and as Steven had noted on his ill-fated visit the previous week, the room was neat and tidy with no room for disorder. In fact, thought Derek, it looked as though it hadn't been used at all.

Unlike Steven, however, Derek was perfectly prepared to rifle through Quentin's filing cabinets.

There were plenty of them: large grey metal containers lining one wall. Derek counted six. Along with the large desk in the centre of the room and a tall bookshelf against the second long wall, the filing cabinets were the only furniture.

Despite their number, there was no external labelling on the metal drawers: no "A-C" or more involved alternative. There was just the row of grey soldier-like towers. For all Derek knew they were empty.

He was going to check.

Because they were standard cabinets, picking the locks was relatively straight forward. For most, he managed it quickly and efficiently, pulling open the drawers noisily in his haste to view the contents.

Inside, as expected were rows of muted green foolscap suspension files, each containing tan cardboard files. Each file contained three simple sheets of paper. Derek pulled the first one he came across from its home and opened it.

There were times that Derek regretted his inattention in science classes, but he figured, looking at the papers in front of him that even Casey would struggle with the information contained in the files.

Each file had a coded alphanumeric – an index number perhaps? - Which consisted of three letters, a five digit number and six digits which looked like a representation of MMYYYY. The code was printed large across the file and then repeated at the top of each internal sheet. The internal sheets appeared to be summaries of some sort, containing a chemical structure diagram, a verbal description of that structure, notes on a chemical process and then on the last of the three pages a complete summary of some type of substance.

Derek frowned, closed the file and placed it back in the drawer. He pulled the next one.

It was identical.

And by identical, Derek meant that the only thing differing in the file was one of the digits in the five digit sequence. Even the chemical structure was the same and the process was…

Derek stopped.

No. It wasn't the same. There was one tiny component which differed on the structure and the process described was very slightly different: a change in ratio between two chemical compounds.

He closed the file and pulled the next one.

This time he spotted the difference quickly. Another minute change in ratio.

He pulled another file at random. Again, a ratio change.

Derek replaced the file and closed the drawer. He pulled open the next drawer and pulled a file.

This time the three letters were different and the structure pictured varied significantly. The next file had the same three letters, and only a minute change from the second structure.

It was the same pattern in the next two drawers too.

Derek understood now. In each drawer was information about a single type of steroid, each file contained the information about the variants of that steroid. The six cabinets must be filled with a brief summary of every single compound Smythe had worked on over his career. Looking at the numbers of files, and thinking about the precise nature of the experiments and the tiny changes in details for each one…it boggled Derek's mind.

He glanced again at the file in his hand and wondered why the index number seemed familiar. He had seen it somewhere before.

Derek glanced at his watch, conscious of the time. He replaced the file and closed its drawer. He would just check that the rest of the filing cabinets contained the same sorts of files and then he would turn his attention to the desk.

But in the last drawer of the last cabinet – the one nearest the window – Derek was again forced to pause in shock. Right at the very back of the cabinet drawer the files looked different. They didn't contain _any_ papers within them at all. They were just tan cardboard wallets labelled with the same format of alphabet and numbers.

Confused once more, Derek let his fingers run over the rack of foolscap, scanning the index numbers until one index number drew his attention: **VEN/N6A3C4/092011**. It didn't follow the format of the other files but that wasn't what drew his attention. It was the date.

The month of Derek's "death".

Derek gasped. He looked again at the code:

"VEN" was the first three letters of his own surname, N6A was the beginning of one of the zip codes for London and September 2011 was the date that he had "died". This file referred to his death!

Which was not helpful because it was empty.

Derek turned the cardboard file over but there was nothing. He turned his attention back to the drawer and pulled out another one of the empty files. He didn't recognise the code to this one so he returned it but then an idea passed across his mind and he skimmed the index numbers, looking for something.

And there is was.

**SAN/K7L1S5/082011 **The death of Tina Sanchez in Kingston.

Derek's first case as an RCMP officer, even though it predated his own death. The girl whose strangulation was achieved using the same scarf as had been used for Holly's death.

If Derek had harboured any doubts that Quentin was involved, they just got blown out of the water.

* * *

"How far away are we?" Casey asked. Jazz was the one watching the GPS.

"I think about twenty minutes." He replied.

"Which means…"

"Yeah. Smythe has probably arrived."


	31. The Underworld

Derek had lost track of how long he had been at the labs. As he turned away from the filing cabinets, he pulled his blackberry from the pocket in his jeans and cursed as he noticed the continuous red light.

The _fucking _thing had crashed!

He pulled the back from the device, re-seated the battery and waited while it rebooted. He prayed that Jazz hadn't been trying to call him.

* * *

"Yes, boss. We're on our way there now. ETA…" Jazz looked at the GPS. "…about fifteen minutes. Have you got a lock on his location?"

Casey glanced at Jazz biting her lip anxiously.

"So he's still in the main building. That's good. Are we going in?...Why not? Yeah…yeah, I know but… okay. You're the boss."

Jazz hung up.

"What?" Casey asked anxiously, her eyes on the road ahead because she was doing 10mph over the speed limit.

"He's still in the building." Jazz noticed her frown. "GPS chip in his blackberry." He explained.  
"I though he had it disabled." Casey pointed out.

"He changed his mind. Seemed to think there was a possibility you might get lost while using it or something."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Oh Casey! That's only the half of the ridiculous "let's keep Casey safe" procedures he has in place."

"Well…if it helps us keep track of him, this one at least, I'm glad about. What else did Spike say?"

"That we won't be going in unless absolutely necessary. Apparently, they can't get the paperwork in order."  
"Is he serious?"

"Yes. But I also think he's not alone. In his office I mean."

"And if he is?"  
"Casey. Derek's my partner. _I'm_ not about to hang him out to dry."

"Good. Because if you are, you can get out of the car now."  
"Well I'm not. So put your foot down, girl. We have some catching up to do."

"I thought you said if the locals pulled me I was on my own."

"I lied."

* * *

It was as Derek was searching the large desk in the centre of Smythe's office that his phone suddenly leapt into life. It buzzed repeatedly and when he pulled it from his pocket again he was horrified to find 40 missed calls and more than 30 text messages. He was about to read them when the cough sounded through the room.

"I think you'll find they are trying to tell you that I've left the wake and I'm on my way." The voice said from the doorway.

Derek knew he was screwed.

"By "they" you mean…?" He asked, turning around to find the expected form of Quentin Smythe standing in the doorway.

"Your incompetent partner and that annoying doctor girlfriend of yours." Quentin elaborated.

"Jazz isn't incompetent." Derek answered.

"And Casey?" Smythe raised an eyebrow.

"…can be annoying. But, normally only when you deserve it." Derek shifted on his feet, changing his balance ready for flight.

The professor nodded. "I'd noticed." He said in a normal tone of voice which then rose unexpectedly. "I wouldn't if I were you. Run…I mean. I may not carry a gun myself, but I make it a point never to go anywhere without someone who does."

And with that a large shadow appeared behind the scientist. A large, black shadow whose body filled the door space.

Derek's eyes widened in recognition.

"You!" he exclaimed, remembering a previous encounter in his old apartment. The man mountain looked even more intimidating this time, probably due to the angry look on his face.

"I've been looking forward to this." BBG said to Smythe. "This is the guy that almost brained me – twice."

"Technically that was my girlfriend – and you were trying to kidnap me at the time." He answered arching an eyebrow. "I thought you worked for Papillion."

The professor sighed. "He works for me. He always has done. It just suited me to "lend" him to that annoying insect. Now I think the time has come for us to take this to a more appropriate place: one where we won't be disturbed by any annoying visitors."

Smythe stepped towards the large bookshelf against the wall, fiddled for a moment and then stood back as it swung out into the room, on a hinge.

Derek whistled.

"Impressive."

"I thought so. I got the idea after a trip to Amsterdam in my youth. I'd recommend the Anne Frank museum but frankly you won't be alive long enough…excuse the pun."

He smiled coldly as he stepped back and Derek saw that behind the bookcase there was now a slim, flimsy door-shaped panel. Smythe pulled it open revealing a thick metal door beyond.

An elevator.

He pushed a concealed button and the metal door slid open silently.

Derek started as he was shoved from behind. In his distraction at the idea of secret doors and elevators, he had failed to see the man mountain approach. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

"Shall we?" Quentin asked with mock politeness. His hand was extended towards the elevator which looked as though it was designed to take four passengers at the most. Given the size of BBG, it would be a tight squeeze.

"Search him." Smythe ordered before they stepped into the box. BBG complied, removing both of the weapons Derek had hidden about his person. The latter sighed. He hated being unarmed.

When the three of them were in the elevator, Quentin leaned forward to close the door and then the metal box began its descent. The movement was smooth and graceful, in complete contrast to the other elevators in the building. Clearly this one was carefully maintained and the cage within it was also new.

Quentin explained. "This elevator shaft has been in existence for over a hundred years. It used to be a dumb waiter I believe; at least until my forebear decided to dabble in other areas. Then it became appropriate for him to have access to the lower sections of the property without the knowledge of certain unwelcome visitors. It is a concept that I understand only too well."

Derek nodded; his mind running a mile a minute as he tried to figure how he was going to get out of this. Then it occurred to him that he actually didn't want to be out of this situation just yet: he wanted to know what the hell was going on.

So for the minute he played ball.

The elevator continued its downward journey. It was quite slow but it was also silent. As if sensing Derek's interest, Quentin jerked his head towards the control panel.

"The priority is discretion." He said. "There are people here who have worked in this building for twenty years and don't know there is a third elevator."  
"Where does it go?" Derek asked after a minute.

Smythe laughed. "Yes. That is the million dollar question, isn't it?"

* * *

"There are the gates up ahead." Casey said as they turned from the road onto the dirt track. Unlike Derek, they didn't require stealth. Despite Spike, they were going onto the site one way or another. If Casey had her way it would be in a blaze of glory and flashing lights.

"Okay. Pull over there and I'll call Spike."

Casey did as requested, switching off the engine and turning in her seat.

"We're here." Jazz announced into the phone. He listened for a few minutes. "What do you mean you've lost him?" He eventually exclaimed. "How?"

Casey's eyes widened. She tapped Jazz on the shoulder but he brushed her off.

"That's impossible!" Jazz pointed out. "He can't be there one minute and then not the next. Is the equipment faulty? _The techs say not_…are the techs faulty?" There was heavy sarcasm in Derek's friend's voice. "Yeah, yeah…I know. But they aren't out in the field having to listen to their sorry-ass explanations."

Casey tapped him again. Jazz held up a solitary finger to hold off her questions.

"Well tell them to find him. We're going in. I know I don't have the paperwork. I'll improvise."

Jazz ended the call and turned to Casey, tapping the phone against his chin. "The GPS chip stopped broadcasting about five minutes ago. It was sudden so they think he is still in the vicinity but they can't be certain. It's probably that he's entered a dead spot in the building."

"So they don't know where Derek is?"  
"No. They don't. But we don't need them and their technology anyway. We'll go do it the old fashion way."

"Meaning?"

"It's time to sneak in."

* * *

Derek was in awe. He had left the elevator and was currently standing in the entrance hall to a whole new world. The elevator had descended, of that he was certain. How far was a bit more unclear. However great the distance, it was nothing to the difference between the world above ground and the world below.

If the previous levels had been a tribute to all that was good about Victorian England, this new place – which he was still unsure of its true location – this new place was a tribute to modern Canada.

Everything which he had expected to see in the mansion somewhere above was clearly located here in its uncharted depths.

The foyer which greeted them as they emerged from the elevator was smart, clean and decorated in a modern minimalist style. The immaculately smooth pale grey walls reflected light from the concealed lighting which Derek assumed was recessed into the ceiling somehow, although he couldn't see it. To his surprise there was another elevator a short distance away which clearly led upwards to the building above.

Quentin noted the direction of his eyes, and the surprise on his face.

"There are six elevators in total." He said. "These two are the only ones that lead into the mansion. The others are more serviceable: larger and located at the other end of the complex where its main entrance is."

"Main entrance?" Derek queried.

"Oh yes. The Victorian mansion is just a "front" or rather, should I say instead that it is a "back"? The Victorian side is the legitimate face of my research: a poor, inadequately resourced research project that occasionally dishes out minor, barely significant discoveries. The section you are in now however is the reality of my work. Here is where the genius happens."

The professor started to lead the way down a series of corridors. They were all brightly lit, spotless and set into some of the walls were large smoky-glazed windows providing an eye into the rooms beyond. There were conference rooms, offices and as they moved further into the complex the rooms widened and developed a more "scientific" look.

After several minutes walking the rooms Derek saw were fully-fledged laboratories: their interiors almost sparkling with modernity and sophistication. They paused by one lab for a moment and watched as white-coated technicians walked well-rehearsed patterns around the room, opening industrial refrigerators, pressing buttons on large grey equipment and tapping eagerly on impressive computers with large screens.

"Impressive isn't it?" Quentin commented. "I do love showing people around this side of my work. This is after all the bread and butter of my operation. If people could only truly appreciate what we achieve here…" His voice trailed away. "It's impossible, of course. There are very few people I allow down here: only the people who work here and the very occasional "investor". The government and the legitmate side get shown the "front" of my operations in the big house. Down here is, literally, the Underworld. The people I show around here are the people key to my "retail" business: just one or two individuals in the world who need to see a portion of the reality."

Derek frowned. "But surely your secrets are only your secrets while your staff is loyal?"

Smythe smiled indulgently. "My staff is loyal, because I pay them well, but they also only see the small section of the operation that they need to. Their passes only allow them to enter their own space and each space is self-sufficient. It is also only one small part of a giant jigsaw – and only I have seen the lid of the box."

Derek was still confused. "But surely they are suspicious of what you make here. I mean…steroids."

The professor laughed. "Oh I don't make steroids. That's a costly process, fraught with legislation and red-tape. No. What I make is completely legal and above board."

* * *

Now Derek was really confused. If this was all legal, why the secrecy and why the connections to Sal and Papillion? Why the death and destruction of lives?

"I don't understand."

Quentin nodded to BBG and the big guy opened a door off to the left and shoved Derek inside following quickly behind him. Smythe entered the room and closed the door.

They were now standing in a large conference room. It was all dark leather and the uniform blue-grey walls and smoked glass of the rest of the "building".

"Yes. I can see how you would be confused. That is my whole purpose with my organisation. I make things appear so simple that 1+1 must equal 2. Yet it doesn't." He motioned for Derek to seat himself at the dark cherry-wood conference table. Derek complied and then the scientist too sat down. BBG moved to stand by the door.

"When I was young I had a friend. We played together before we were old enough to go to walk, we attended the same school, and eventually we graduated high school together. Joseph was my only friend. Even at a young age I was considered to be "gifted" and through my school years I was often teased, ridiculed and outright bullied. Joseph was not gifted or even bright, but he knew how to use his fists and he became my protector…my bodyguard. When I went off to college, Joseph got a job in the same town. There was no longer a need for him to protect me as such but we had got used to each other being around.

I was already in my pre-med training when Joseph got sick. He was diagnosed with a rare, genetic muscle-wasting disease and given less than ten years to live. There was no cure: standard steroid treatments were ineffective. I began to take care of him even as I continued my studies but though the process was gradual, I could see him wasting away in front of me. When then time came for me to decide my own future as a doctor, I chose endocrinology. I chose research. I wanted to find a more effect steroid treatment. I wanted my friend to live.

Initially, I had some success and for a few years, Joseph rallied."

Quentin paused and he glanced off into space. His face was different, less cold-hearted automaton and more bereaved man. Derek would have felt sympathy for the person before him if he wasn't aware of the people who had died because of Quentin Smythe – or the disastrous effect his research had had on Derek's own life.

"I had been working in endocrinology for about five years when Joseph died suddenly. And everything changed. I had lost the only friend I had ever had and now all that was left was my research."  
"What about your family?" Derek asked. "You still had them."

Quentin frowned as though he didn't understand. "Family? What do they have to do with this?" He asked staring at his captive audience.

Derek felt a chill at the coldness in the eyes which watched him.

"For the next two years I worked hard but my focus changed. It became less about finding a new steroid and more about looking at how they worked in general. I looked at the conditions which improved steroid performance and the companion drugs which helped deliver those conditions. It was during this time that Steven joined me for his internship."

There was a shuffle near the door, and both men glanced over but it was just BBG shifting his enormous mass.

Quentin continued.

"Steven was always a bit of a chatterer but he was also exceptionally bright and intuitive – a rare combination. I had hopes that he would join me in my research." He paused. "But h had decided to go into Trauma and I was left to go on alone." There was a bitterness to his tone.

"Around the time Steven left, I was working on one of the steroid compounds and its various companions when I realised something remarkable. In the presence of one of the new companion drugs, the new steroid was completely invisible: bodily fluids containing both chemicals showed only the companion drug when its presence was tested. The steroid had "disappeared"!

Confused, I tried the steroid with other similarly structured companion drugs and could detect it perfectly well using the standard steroid tests. So I went back to the companion drug and tried it with a similar steroid compound.

The steroid became undetectable.

I tried it with a different steroid – one with a different structure altogether. The result was the same: it became undetectable.

Excited, I started trying it with every steroid compound I had in the labs. Every single steroid I tried it with became invisible when used in conjunction with the companion drug!"

Quentin Smythe had developed a simple drug that would render any and all steroids invisible under normal dope tests. Derek's eyes widened as the implication of that statement hit home. He thought about all of the sports where doping was a problem: weight-lifting, athletics, swimming and even high-level competition team games…like ice hockey. He thought about all the money placed in bets on those sports.

If someone developed a way for players to take a steroid and not be found out it would have far-reaching implications. Athletes could get away with cheating. Team owners could get away with doping their own players without even the players knowing.

Derek corrected himself: not _if_ but someone _had_ developed exactly that and the culprit was standing in front of him.

"So what happened next?" Derek asked coldly, wondering how a guy who had started in his field to find the cure for a close friend's illness could cross the boundaries into an illegal activity such as this. He guessed he could blame grief and the anger at the disease which made the grief necessary. It was possible, he supposed, that you could love someone so much that their death made you…

_NO!_ He loved Casey with every cell in his body but even her death would not make him condone the actions of this man in front of him.

Clearly, this man's actions were triggered by something else: Ambition? Arrogance? Greed?

Quentin Smythe shrugged. "For me of course, I had discovered a solution to a problem. I am a scientist so I was ready to move on to another problem. But then I looked around at my surroundings: the dilapidated Victorian mansion, the cost-cutting the lab faced. I thought of the millions of black market money my discovery could generate and the injustice that meant that it went to where it wasn't needed just desired.

And then I realised I could do something about that. With a few connections in the right place I could tap into those millions. I could get the funding I wanted. I could achieve the goals I wanted to achieve. So I started making discreet enquiries. That's when I met Sal."

* * *

In the end it was Casey who decided how they would approach entering the lab. She waited until Jazz confirmed that there were back up cars in the vicinity and then she reversed out from where they were parked. It was a sudden, jerky movement and Jazz who had unbuckled his seat belt dropped his phone in shock.

"What are you doing?"  
"Protecting my family." Casey said with a wry smile. Then before he could react, she had swung the car around and was driving towards the main gate of the lab compound.

"Casey…" Jazz warned. "We have no legal authority for this."

"Arrest me!" Casey said and stamped on the gas.

The stripy red and white barrier didn't stand a chance.

"Fuck!" Jazz said. "There goes my rental collision warranty."

* * *

"Sal." Derek mused. "Where is he?"

Quentin shrugged. "Right now? I'd say he was floating somewhere between here and Mexico."  
"He's dead?" Derek exclaimed sitting up suddenly. BBG took a step into the room but Quentin put up a hand to stop him.

"The relationship between us was one of mutual benefit. When he started to become less benefit and more nuisance I took steps. I know how these guys work. Over the years I've taken steps to protect myself from their ambition. I've planted my own people in their organisations and made sure I've known exactly what I was getting into."

"Which was?"  
"Supply and demand. As it always is. Sal was a drugs peddler but he was slightly more intelligent than most. He immediately saw the advantages in the arrangement that I was proposing. I'd considered other people but their greed would have made them negotiate a higher cut of the profits. It was important to me that the split was 60:40. The effort was mine, the risk was mine. Sal was already in the business, I was not. I needed the money for my research. Sal was lucky to be chosen and for many years he recognised that."

"And then?"

"And then he got bolder and started to demand a bigger share of the cut. He might have got it too, but he started to make bad decisions."

"Like killing me?" Derek asked.

Quentin laughed. "Oh no! That was one of the decisions we agreed on. You were a liability and you needed to be got rid of."  
Derek breathed in deeply and slowly. "So what did you disagree on?"

"Initially, I disagreed with his contact with that mindless moron, Papillion. I mean can you believe anyone with half a brain would give themselves such a stupid nickname? His real name, you know, was Fred? I know you have him on file as something else, but he'd changed his identity many times. I guess he saw himself as some sort of James Bond-type villain. The man was a fool even I could see that. Sal did too, but he let Fred get close enough and told him stuff that I really didn't like. I was forced to take steps to get rid of the insect.

Even then I would have accepted Sal's failings. But he made a decision that I really couldn't agree with."

"Which was?"

"Not to tell me that you were still alive. I had to find it out from Steven."

There was quiet for a moment.

"Let me get this straight. Sal knew that I was alive from the sighting at the airport but he didn't tell you, so you didn't know I was alive until Steven came asking questions?"

"It took me a while to realise even then. Steven asked awkward questions and let slip that he was asking on behalf of Dr McDonald. I asked myself why she was so interested after all these years. After Steven's death I dug into Casey's recent life and found she'd moved to Ottawa but was currently in London. I put a tail on her, and that's when I learnt that you had lived. I confronted Sal who confessed that he was aware of this fact.

He didn't live much longer."

"You killed him?"  
"Me? Oh no. One of my associates…yes."

"What had Sal been planning?"

"For you? Nothing. He reasoned that eventually the police would give up on the case and move on. He thought you would be grateful to live another day. He thought you would give up."

Quentin looked Derek in the eye. "I knew otherwise."

"Why did you kill Steven?"

"A stitch in time. Steven was dangerous to me in a way that Casey wasn't. I knew Casey would push for information because she was emotional about losing you. Steven would push for information because he cared about her. But he failed to realise where I knew that he already _had_ some of that information. He had been working in the lab shortly before my discovery. It would not have taken long for him to make the leap."

Derek opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get the words out an alarm sounded. Quentin Smythe frowned.

"Give me the gun!" He snapped at BBG. "And go find out what that's about."

Wordlessly, BBG nodded and complied.

Quentin pointed the gun at Derek as the big guy left the room.

"Don't worry. Just because I don't carry the damn thing doesn't mean that I don't know how to use it."


	32. Resurface

"Miss…Miss! You can't…!" The guard's voice trailed away as Casey disappeared up the steps of the main entrance to the mansion, brushing past him and into the reception area.

"I'd say she already has." Jazz noted to the guy as he passed, convinced that if he had tried this it wouldn't have worked. The guards stepping out of Casey's way had something to do with the sight of an attractive "woman on a mission" storming like a Valkyrie into the headquarters of her foe. Casey was dressed in a long black, almost Gothic dress she had borrowed from Marti for the funeral and her long hair was untethered and flowing behind her.

"This place is bigger than I thought." Casey paused briefly. Jazz nodded.

"Let's start with Smythe's office." He said. "Derek will have to visit there at some point."

Casey approached the bemused receptionist. "Professor Smythe's office. Where is it?" She demanded.

"Please?" Jazz prompted, pulling his ID from his pocket. He inwardly groaned too, remembering the events at the hospital a few weeks ago. Casey was showing a few too many Derek tendencies for his liking.

The receptionist's eyes widened at the badge and she gasped.

"Third Floor end office." She said nodding towards the elevators.

Casey turned immediately towards them.

"Is something wrong?" The receptionist called after Jazz.

"Just make sure you open the door to my friends when they get here." Jazz shouted over his shoulder.

Casey waited until the elevator doors had closed in front of them cutting off their view of the reception area and whisking them up towards the upper floors.

"Will the others come in now then?" She asked.

"Yeah. They'll be forced to."

"Oh?"

"They need to arrest you." Jazz said with a smirk.

"And you?"

"According to Spike, I'm just "observing"."

They found Smythe's office easily enough and that was when Jazz took over.

"Case. Hang on." He ordered in a terse whisper. "Derek would kill me if I let you go in there first." He said holding her back by the arm and drawing his weapon. Casey nodded seeing the sense of what he was saying. She hung back but removed her own gun from her purse. Jazz's eyes widened.

"Does Derek know you have that?" He queried. The gun was far bigger than the ones that he had seen her practice with.

"Derek bought it for me."

"You know how to use it?" He asked.

She smiled. "Of course. Derek showed me."

Jazz shrugged and took up the standard position on one side of the door. Casey adopted the mirror pose for the other side.

"Ready?" Jazz asked her. Casey nodded.

"Police!" He shouted… and kicked in the flimsy door with a loud crash.

"Subtle." Casey commented. "I thought _I_ was overly-dramatic."

"Needs must…" Jazz said casually, leading the way into the room.

The office was empty but it was clear that someone had been here and left in a hurry: a filing cabinet drawer was still open, the once tidy desk was in some disorder, but what caught the attention of both Jazz and Casey was the bookcase pulled out from the wall and the gaping black hole beyond.

"What the fuck?" Jazz exclaimed.

Casey edged forward. Her hands grasping the gun were pointed down to the floor between her feet, her arms quite straight. She leaned over the hole, sweeping the area with the weapon.

"It's an elevator shaft." She announced glancing up at Jazz. "Why's it hidden?"  
"It looks like there is more to this place than is marked on the plans." Jazz noted.

Casey looked thoughtful. "If there are lower levels, below the ground I mean, do you think that is why Derek's GPS isn't working?"

Jazz nodded. "I'll call Spike and get him to check the plans again. And then we'll go down."

* * *

BBG left the conference room and closed the door behind him. The alarm was still sounding and in the underground passages, despite the interior décor which deadened some sound, the klaxon reverberated loudly.

Something was definitely up.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and frowned when he saw there was no signal. Unlike the noise of the alarm, the bedrock which these tunnels had been channelled into was very good at dulling electrical signals. It was one of the things that made the site ideal for scientific research: there was no external interference.

It was, however, useless for cellular communications. Sighing loudly, he walked back to the nearest wall phone, a distance of about 600 yards, so that he could call the security office.

"Hey Randy! It's Jake. What the fuck's going on?" BBG asked.

"Randy can't come to the phone right now." An unfamiliar voice said cheerfully. "He's rather tied up." As he spoke in the mansion security office tens of feet above, the RCMP field agent glanced across at "Randy" who was handcuffed to a filing cabinet.

Shocked, and sensing trouble though he clearly couldn't see what the agent could see, BBG hung up. He wasn't used to acting swiftly, however, so he scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully.

"Fuck if I know what's going on. I guess I'd better tell the boss." He muttered to himself.

"Don't worry." A feminine voice said from behind. "I'll happily take him a message."

And then BBG's world went black…again.

* * *

"So go on." Derek encouraged. "You decided to set up your own operation here. It must have cost you a fortune excavating these tunnels."  
"No actually." Quentin informed him. "The tunnels were already here."  
Derek must have looked confused because Quentin settled himself in as if to begin a long story.

"Have you heard of the "underground railroad"?"

"As in the slave railroad? The network of secret routes and safe houses for American slaves looking for a better life?"

Quentin nodded.

"In the 19th century, Canada did not share the views of some parts of the United States when it came to slavery. Like some of the "rogue" states, Canada offered runaway slaves a sanctuary from servitude: a place to escape to."

"It was a fantastic thing, but its relevance escapes me. Surely the underground railroad was south of the Canadian border? It consisted of "safe houses" or "stations" for slaves to move to as they made their way north using connections and people prepared to risk moving them. This house is north of the border. Why would it be necessary as a "station"?"

"I can see we'll have to disagree about whether emancipation was a good thing or not." Quentin announced and Derek wasn't surprised by this admission. Somehow, Quentin did not seem the type to agree with the freeing of people who were considered as "property".

The professor went on. "But the fact was a large number of slaves were given sanctuary in Canada as a result of so-called "oppression" within the US."

"Sanctuary is a loose term." Derek said, remembering some of the less savoury parts of his Canadian history lessons. Slaves had been allowed over the border but in many cases that was the only assistance they had received.

"Regardless, many crossed into Canada."

"But why did they need a safe house north of the Canadian border?" Derek repeated.

Quentin smiled coldly. "Oh it wasn't a safe house. It was a holding station."

"A what?"  
"Slaves were valuable property. Some of them were worth a very large amount of money and their owners were reluctant to part with them. They sent people after them and if the slave was important enough to them, they would even pursue them over the border. Then of course when they found them they needed some way to take them back into the States."

Derek's eyes widened. "There was a railroad _back?_" he gasped.

"Only as far as the nearest US state. Then they had no need to hide what they were doing. Even in the free states such as Michigan, New York, Ohio and Pennsylvania there was a law which said that the authorities could not interfere if a slave-catcher from another state was operating in the free state."

"And your relative was…"  
"…He knew there were natural tunnels in the area he just widened them and took advantage of a business opportunity. Of course the tunnels could never be long enough to cross the border, but they were good for storage. A fact his great-grandson took advantage of later on. He excavated further and then smuggled all sorts of goods across the border, particularly during the Prohibition days. He stock-piled rum and other alcohol prior to running it across to the states at the end of the twenties."

Derek shook his head in disbelief at the pride in the professor's voice. He understood however, that the pride was not that the activities were illegal, but that the family members of which he was talking had used their ingenuity to make a profit; something that Quentin clearly believed he too had done. It saddened Derek to know that the Smythe line had probably been responsible for many deaths over the centuries.

He was just going to ask about the deaths which had resulted from Smythe's own endeavours when the man himself suddenly stood.

"Much as I would like to stand here and discuss my family history with you further, Jake has been gone too long and that alarm is still sounding. I have a bad feeling about this. On your feet. Now! It's time to go."

He jerked the gun to one side in a gesture designed to instruct Derek where he needed to move to. Derek, anxious not to provoke the mad man before him too soon, stood.

"Hands on your head, slowly. Now, I want you to walk towards the door."

Derek did as he was told.

"Stop!" Quentin said when he reached the door. Derek paused.

Never moving the gun from its target, the professor opened the door and looked down the passageway in both directions. Satisfied it was clear, he pushed Derek out.

"Turn left." Smythe ordered. "Follow the passage until it turns the corner."  
Derek did as he was told.

He spent most of the next five minutes creating and discarding many plans to overpower Smythe because the one thing he was certain of was that the man behind him was clearly quick-witted, even if he was deranged. Getting the right outcome from this was not going to be easy.

* * *

"This is going to take forever!" Jazz complained.

"Only if we let it." Casey said in a determined voice. "It helps that everyone has evacuated the building. Did Spike say what was happening up top?"

Jazz had managed to contact the surface security office and speak to the field agent in charge using the wall phone. Spike was still flying by helicopter from Ottawa, but the agents on the surface knew who Jazz was and why he was there. They even knew that Casey's entry was illegal but none of them judged. They had been told that Derek was one of their own, that it was a civilian who was taking the law into their own hands for his safety. They might have to arrest her at the end, and sorting out the details was going to be a nightmare, but none of them was in a hurry to be the arresting officer and they all understood her motivation.

"They're rounding up the scientists and support staff." Jazz explained as they made their way down the corridors quickly, searching the rooms as they went. "My guess is most of them are innocent. This guy keeps his cards close to his chest."

"You think BBG is sufficiently restrained?" They had left Jake handcuffed to a concrete pillar knowing that one of the local RCMP teams was already on its way into the passages.

"Casey. Have you ever tried to get out of a set of those cuffs? Forget I asked; I don't want to know about Derek's sex life."

"You're an asshole, Jazz." Casey informed him. "It's not like that."  
"No?" Jazz asked.

Casey grinned and winked. "No. We use silk scarves."

* * *

They swept the corridors, working their way from the mansion to the extremes of the passages. Jazz had been right and most of the site was empty because the scientists had been evacuated. The siren they had sounded was the fire siren and people who work underground fear fire more than anything, knowing the flames and smoke are funnelled down the corridors in the same way that smoke is funnelled up through a chimney.

They had been underground for nearly fifteen minutes and had covered more than a half a mile of passages. They still hadn't found Derek.

"How much further?" Casey asked.

"According to the team up above this touches almost to the outskirts of town."  
"You're kidding me?"  
"Nope."

"Shit!"

Jazz glanced at Casey. "We'll find him."  
"I know. I just want him to be alive when we do." She said quietly.

* * *

Sam was restless. He'd been content for the last few days to just ignore his instinct about the parking lot incident, but for the past twenty four hours something just keep eating at him about it.

He knew that Casey had been on his mind for a while. It wasn't that he still harboured _those_ feelings for her. It was the brotherly sense of responsibility surfacing again. He just couldn't put it to bed when it came to Derek's step-sister. And there in was the problem. It wasn't because she was Sam's ex-girlfriend or even that they had built a pretty decent friendship over the years, it wasn't even that she was the doctor who had brought his daughter into the world. Instead, the sense of duty definitely came from the fact that Casey McDonald was Derek's step-sister and Derek was dead.

Derek who was, and always would be, Sam's best friend.

Which meant Sam had to step up to the mark.

Sam had booked the flight to Ottawa for a fortnight's time. He had arranged a pleasant-looking hotel on the outskirts of the capital city and was very much looking forward to a short city break.

He was also hoping to receive a few answers.

Ruth had agreed to the vacation so she and Amelia Casey were going to be going with him. Ruth had approved the timing and the hotels etc. She had however, made one request of Sam before they actually boarded the flight.

"Talk to Marti." Ruth had insisted. "Make sure she knows we are going and ask her advice. She'll know what sort of reception we'll get."

So here he was outside Casey's apartment, waiting to talk to Marti.

It looked the same as always but Marti's car wasn't there which wasn't a good sign. It probably meant she wasn't there. He decided to risk it anyway and left his own vehicle to cross the street and enter the building. During the bad days of Casey's drinking she had given him her door code, although these days he no longer had a key to the front door. Instead he was forced to knock.

The door flew open immediately, making him step back in shock.

"Sam?" Marti gasped, also stunned. He was clearly not the person she was expecting. But she recovered quickly and her next words surprised him.

"Do you have a car with you?"

Sam nodded dumbly.

"Oh thank god!" She exclaimed and reaching inside for her purse, she emerged from the apartment. "You can drive. I'll fill you in on the way."

* * *

Their flight from the tunnels had been at a pace but a few doors from the end of the largest corridor, Quentin suddenly took a diversion down a side corridor and paused beside a door. He placed his thumb on the keypad and was rewarded with a click as the door unlocked.

"In there!" Smythe ordered, pointing with the gun. Derek had no choice but to comply.

"There" turned out to be a computer room.

It wasn't a cobbled together room full of computers the way the upstairs server rooms had been. This was a purpose-built facility, full of metal racking bolted to the floor and loaded with computers of every shape and size as well as large monitors, pull-out keyboards, mice and those little boxes with flashing lights that look like something out of Battlestar Galactica – or maybe reminiscent of K.I.T.T. This had not been fitted out on the cheap. This was the real deal. It wouldn't have surprised Derek to find that the door at the back of the room led to a further computer room containing something even more impressive like a Cray.

What Quentin was interested in, however, was the racking along the side wall. Instead of computers, it held some form of storage media, although Derek had never seen its like before. The racks were labelled with their index numbers however, and those Derek _had_ seen before.

They were the numbers from the filing cabinets upstairs. Then he remembered he had also seen the numbers in the server rooms in the mansion.

Quentin saw him look. "I store the unimportant stuff upstairs." He told Derek. "The results of the experiments which didn't work and so on. Down here is the goldmine. Here is where I store my real research." He motioned to the left of the rack. Then he turned. "And here is where I store my other "valuables"." He pointed to the right and Derek saw a smaller selection of disks, labelled in the same format as the "death" files he had discovered above.

"So what do you want from them now?" Derek asked.  
Smythe smiled. "I've planned for today." He said arrogantly. "I have everything I need to start over stored on one block of disks." He pulled a block out from the rack. It looked a little like an old VHS case although the data inside was a million times greater. "I'll just take these and then we can go."

"Go where?" Derek asked.

"That's for me to know, and you…never to find out. Our journey together will last only until I no longer need a bargaining chip. Now. If you wouldn't mind." Quentin jerked the gun towards the door they had entered by. Again, Derek moved as instructed.

The professor directed him back along the short corridor to the main hall. He walked behind Derek, the block of disks under his arm, but the gun always trained on the prisoner in front of him. Derek wasn't about to take any chances so he bided his time hoping that at some point there might be an opportunity to distract his captor.

But it wasn't Derek that distracted Quentin.

When Derek opened the door to the main corridor he stepped out into the brighter light – and saw a movement to his right. It wasn't until Quentin was already out of the door and beside him that Derek's brain registered what it was seeing.

Casey and Jazz emerging from a side door further back down the corridor.

* * *

It was Jazz who spotted them first, and his cry alerted Quentin to the danger.

"Stop! Police!" Jazz shouted.

Quentin did no such thing.

Instead he pushed Derek across the corridor and through another door marked "Fire Exit". The door clanged behind them.

"Shit!" Jazz and Casey shouted in unison and then also sprinted for the door.

When they reached it, they discovered the space beyond was a wrought iron stairwell, leading up and down. The space was empty but they could hear the clang of feet as they ran upwards. Without a pause both Casey and Jazz started up the stairs in pursuit.

The first flight was taken okay, but Jazz pulled Casey back from the turn and the half-landing…just in time to avoid the gunshot which ricocheted off the metal handrail.

"Thanks." Casey said wryly, holding back slightly now but still determined to push on.

"You're wasted as a doctor." Jazz murmured quietly.

Casey flashed him a grin. "Doctoring has its uses." She said in reply, throwing herself around the corner quickly, her gun covering the space above her.

"Just watch you don't shoot Derek." Jazz reminded her.

Casey glared at him.

"Sorry. Stupid thing to say." Jazz apologised.

Neither of them opened fire, but they were forced to duck a couple more times as they climbed higher. Casey was just wondering how far below ground they were when they reached the next level and she saw the white, stencilled figures on the wall.

"-3". She groaned inwardly.

Jazz noted the numbers too. "Good job we're fit eh?" He commented.  
"Speak for yourself." Casey replied wryly.

They climbed another floor and then stopped suddenly as the sound of a fight broke out above them.

* * *

Derek was sick of this. He'd been compliant for far too long. While it was just him there wasn't an issue. He would just wait his moment out and then over-power Quentin when he got around to it. He was fairly sure he could over-power him, it was just that during the initial capture and flight the professor had decided to share his thoughts and motivation. Derek wanted to know what was going on. He wanted to understand, just in case Smythe didn't make it out of here alive.

Then he saw Casey and his focus changed. It was one thing to leave the mad man with a gun whilst the only person who could get hurt was Derek. But when Casey was the person pursuing them and Quentin seemed quite happy to open fire on her...well Derek wasn't going to put up with that. He needed to act.

The trouble was then there didn't seem to be an appropriate moment to tackle him. Every time Derek thought it was okay, Smythe shifted slightly and the gun was pointing in Casey's direction. Derek was too concerned about Dead Man's Fingers to take the risk. Even if he killed the guy, how could he be sure that the act wouldn't cause the gun to fire accidentally?

They had reached floor -1 when the only opportunity arose and Derek took it. Quentin's foot slipped on the metal stairs and he stumbled. Derek pounced and the two men struggled on the top step.

To the two people below, it was like watching a fight scene in slow motion. The men's hands grabbed at each other, the gun still firmly on the grasp of Quentin. For a moment they danced a graceless dance on the edge.

It appeared, however, that the professor was actually the stockier of the two and it was his weight that did it.

One extra hard shove and Derek began to fall backwards down the stairs.

Jazz raised his gun and fired upwards.

BANG!

CLANG!

And Derek lost consciousness.

* * *

Casey had tried to catch Derek, but he knocked her flat. She heard the loud clang which followed so quickly on the heels of the revolver crack.

And then there was a second body falling, but she ignored it, leaving Professor Quentin Smythe to Jazz. Casey's only concern was Derek.

"He's dead!" Jazz called from somewhere to her left. "Fuck me! I couldn't put a shot like that in a _paper_ target! It went clear through his heart. How's D?"

"Not good." Casey said, bending beside the twisted body of her lover. She placed a hand over his nose and then felt his neck.

"Shit!" She exclaimed and started to straighten him out.

"Should you be moving him like that? He might have broken something."

Casey didn't reply immediately. She was too busy straddling his body and pressing the heel of her hand against Derek's chest.

"Casey?" Jazz's voice sounded almost panicky now.

"He's not breathing and there's no pulse." Casey explained. Her own voice eerily calm even as she started the chest compressions. "Get up to the top and get the paramedics down here. STAT!"

Jazz didn't need telling twice and Casey heard the clang of running feet again as Derek's partner climbed the stairs three at a time.

"Don't do this to me Venturi." She hissed as she pumped. "Not now! I need you too fucking much! There's too much to say…too much you need to know!"

Casey finished the words and lowered her lips to Derek's mouth for the desperate kiss of life.

* * *

**AN: Do not hate me. I am already three pages in on the final chapter.**

**I've taken a slight degree of "poetic licence" with history here. To my knowledge, the Underground Railroad ran in only one direction. The rest of history in this was as I researched. There was a gap in time of six years between Prohibition being lifted in Canada and the US (although Ontario was reluctant to lift Prohibition and some towns in the area kept it until the 1970s!). And there were well established rum smuggling operations which took advantage of the Great Lakes for decades.**

**One more chapter to the end of this part of the story!**

**There will be a third part which will be a simple plot…no criminals!**

**Sorry about all the cliff-hangers…**


	33. The Middle

"A Glock 19? You're kidding me?" Sam sounded a little surprised at Casey's "choice" of weapon.

"I know. She doesn't look the type, does she?" Jazz was enjoying relating the story. He liked Sam. Since they had been introduced a couple of hours ago they had realised they had a lot of life-attitudes in common.

Marti snorted. "I don't know why you both sound so surprised. Casey's bust Sam's ass at Babe Raider so many times I've lost count and Jazz you know that Derek's had her practising at the range as often as possible."  
"Yeah…but _Casey_?" Sam said in awe. "I remember the days when Derek tried to give her plastic knives and forks with her food in case she cut herself."  
"That was Derek being mean after the Klutzilla saga. He's learnt his lesson since then. They both have. These days when he says something is to protect her he means it."

"I'll believe it when I see it." Sam said quietly. Marti was sure he wasn't just talking the sight of Casey with a gun.

"He's awake." A tired-looking Casey in a white coat announced then from the door way. "You can have five minutes."

It was a shaky Sam that stood up to follow her. Like the others in the small waiting area, he wasn't sure what he was going to find the other side of the door. Unlike the others, however, he hadn't seen his best friend alive for eight years. He had no reference point for how Derek should look right now.

The three of them followed Casey into the room and the door swung closed behind them.

Derek was lying down in bed, looking mostly pale, and although parts of his face were clearly bruised, to Sam he was most definitely Derek. This was despite his head being bandaged. There was also a square dressing just visible at his temple where the metal stair had caught it, the shock of the impact on his already fragile skull causing his body to go into shock and his heart into arrest.

It was down to a miracle that he was alive: a miracle, the fact that his girlfriend was an experienced trauma specialist, and that his partner not only managed to get word to the surface that an EMT was needed urgently, but also managed to find a defibrillator in a first aid corner of one of the well-stocked labs.

Casey had shocked him back to life, monitored him until help arrived, and then flown with him to the nearest hospital…Steven's.

It had been strange for her, dealing with the absence of her friend, especially because it was still the day of his funeral. She had seen many of the people who greeted the helicopter just a couple of hours previously as they trailed Steven's coffin. There had been looks of surprise when they saw who was coming in on the helicopter, but no words were exchanged. Professionalism once again won the day.

She wondered what the reaction of people would be when word got out as to the other death in Steven's family…and its cause.

On the plus side knowing Steven's former colleagues meant that she was given free access to accompany Derek's unconscious form into the Re-sus area.

The parallels to a day eight years previously were too much for her to comprehend.

"Is he going to be okay?" Marti asked with a timid voice pulling Casey away from old memories.

"Okay enough to kick your boyfriend's ass next time I see him." The weak voice came from the bed. "I found an empty condom wrapper in the kitchen garbage."

Casey rolled her eyes unable to suppress a grin at Derek's protectiveness even when he was flat on his back.

"Hey, Dude. If you don't want to wait to kick the guy's butt, I'm sure Jazz and I can oblige for you." Sam said shakily as he walked forward to identify himself to Derek.

"Sam?" Derek gasped in surprise and tried to sit up. Casey put a hand on his shoulder, whispering softly.

"He's coming over. Stay where you are."

And then Derek blinked and when he re-opened his eyes it was to see his first best friend looking down at him.

"Now what have I told you about Aerials and Grinds without a skateboard, Dude?" Sam quipped as if there had been no eight year gap – as if they were both still fifteen, as if he wasn't looking at someone whose funeral he had already attended.

"'Don't grind, unless you mind a sore behind.'" Derek quoted.

They grinned at each other and Sam took his friend's hand in the complicated handshake they had invented aged twelve.

"It's been too long, Sam." Derek said. "I'm sorry you couldn't know."

"I'll bust your ass for that later: when the bruises from this little adventure have healed, of course." Sam promised, although they both knew it would be only words they exchanged when Derek was back on his feet.

"There's much to be said. Explanations…" Derek also promised. "…and many many thanks…for the things you did…the things you said. For looking after what meant most to me when I couldn't." He turned his head awkwardly to look at his girlfriend and then back to Sam.

Sam watched as Casey stroked Derek's face and he kissed her fingers in return. The actions confused him. In the time since Sam and Marti had left Casey's apartment and made the journey to the hospital, explanations had been given about Derek's existence in the world, but Marti had run out of time and decided to leave certain stories for another day. Sam did not know the most important fact about Derek and Casey…although in view of the _incident_ in the grocery store parking lot, and the way they were looking at each other now, he was beginning to have his suspicions.

Jazz cut across his thoughts.

"Hey D. I spoke to Spike. He's still clearing up at the mansion so he'll pop in and speak to you later if he gets chance, but he wanted you to know that they think they've rounded up everyone important."

"Smythe?"

"Confirmed dead on arrival. The big guy who was guarding him is singing like a one-man band and a couple of other henchmen came forward voluntarily as soon as they knew the boss had gone."

"He told me some stuff. There are some things we'll want to look into. And you need to get a techie into that computer room: the underground one, not the mock ones in the mansion." Derek said, struggling again to sit up. Casey restrained him…again.

"Uh uh!" She prohibited. "You're staying exactly where you are until I say so."

"I'm fine, princess. Back off."  
"No." She said firmly. "I'm the doctor in the room. I say you stay where you are. You look awful."  
"I want a second opinion." Derek grouched.

"…You're ugly too." Jazz said with a grin. Sam laughed.

Derek grimaced. "Fuck off! Both of you."

* * *

"You okay?" Derek asked Casey when the others had gone. She glanced up from the clipboard at the side of the bed. Her face was pale and she looked worn out.

"It's been a dramatic few days." She said by way of explanation.

"It's been a dramatic few months." Derek agreed. "Years, even."

"Yes. It has." She tried a weak smile.

Derek held out a hand.

"I'm still here." He pointed out. "Or is that why you're in a pit of despair?"

She smiled. "It still hasn't sunk in. What do you think will happen now?"  
"Well when I get out of here, I'm going to start raking through what's left of his fucking empire."  
"Der-ek! I meant outside of work…our family…us?"

He frowned. "We pick up the pieces and we put the jigsaw back together again." He said cryptically.

"There are more pieces than before." Casey pointed out.

"I'll make the bastards fit some how." He promised.

Then he did what he had been threatening to do since he first opened his eyes. He made himself sit up.

"You should…"

"I should hug my girlfriend." He said quietly. "If she still wants me…"

"Of course I still want you." Casey protested.

"Stop looking like I'm pulling your teeth then." Derek instructed.

He held out a hand and Casey took it, letting him draw her close so that she was forced to perch on the bed beside him.

"I love you." Derek said kissing the top of her head.

"I love you too." Casey whispered back. It was hesitant and cautious, and Derek frowned but didn't push it.

"We'll get all of this straight." He promised her. "We'll find a way to bring our old lives and our new life together again. It went well with Sam, didn't it?"  
"Only because he's going easy on you because he knew your heart stopped this afternoon." She looked up at him. "My heart stopped too, you know."

They were silent for a moment and then Derek kissed her hand again.

"It's over, sweetheart. The bad man's gone. I don't need to be dead anymore. Now we just need to learn how to live again."

* * *

Casey discharged Derek from hospital a few days later and they returned to Ottawa, both of them deciding that they needed some time to think things through before they made decisions about telling the family that Derek was alive.

The apartment was just as they left it, although Casey decided that she needed to clean the entire place from top to bottom because there was so much dust.

Her boyfriend just rolled his eyes and let her clean without commenting on the fact that they had barely been away three weeks.

Despite their resuming their usual off-duty routine, Derek found that he wasn't as settled in their apartment as he had been in recent months. He felt jittery, nervous and for several hours after they arrived home he wondered to himself why that was.

And then he realised.

It was Casey's air of distraction. It was contagious.

She wasn't settled, or at least she wasn't relaxed – so neither was Derek.

For a while he worried that he was losing her, that he had done something wrong or that she had just got sick of the drama that his life entailed. But after spending more emo-time than he was comfortable admitting to himself, he knew that it was unlikely. Casey had been "faithful" to him through the worst of his life – when she thought he was dead, and when he had subsequently pushed her away. He wasn't arrogant about her love for him, but he was fairly sure that they were on the same page when it came to their feelings for each other.

Common sense prevailed further when he noted that whilst her mind might be distant right now she was in almost constant skin-to-skin contact with him: her hands always touching him somewhere, even if it was just the line of her thigh against his own as they sat on the couch.

That first night, she didn't push him away when they went to bed either. Instead, she was the one cuddling close as if desperately needing his warmth.

Casey didn't respond to his attempts to remove her clothes though…or at least not in the way Derek had hoped. She mumbled that he needed to rest and that it would delay his recovery if he engaged in "sexual relations" too soon after the trauma his body had been through.

"You know words like that, spoken in your "doctor" voice really don't do anything to dampen my libido?" Derek informed her, nuzzling her ear. "It's all too much like one of my secret fantasies to make me behave myself."

Casey rolled her eyes at his cheek.

"I'm serious, Derek."  
"I know. And I won't push it. I just want you to know that just as soon as you give me the all clear, you'd better start running for the hills because I'm horny as hell."

Casey groaned. "We'll see." She said.

"You know my hands aren't injured…and this is the longest _you've_ gone without sex."

Casey closed her eyes against the thoughts his words provoked. She pushed away and turned in bed to face him.

"Not now Derek." She said trying to hold back the giggle that threatened to break.

"Okay, okay…I'll let you off tonight…but tomorrow…" he promised.

She leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. He was relieved to see some of the old sparkle back in her eyes.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow." She promised.

* * *

The next day, just as they were finishing a leisurely lunch, Spike arrived unannounced.

Derek's absence and the massive inquiry now under way across the eastern side of Canada and the Eastern Seaboard of the U.S. meant that although they had both been in Toronto until the previous day, Spike and Derek had not yet had chance to discuss the conclusion of the case.

Casey opened the door to Derek's boss with a smile and the offer of food; something which Spike knew not to turn down. Casey's cooking was legend in Derek's office.

He followed Casey through into the open plan kitchen and took the offered seat as Casey laid a third place in front of him and ladled a large bowl of vegetable soup.

The centre of the table had salad and French bread and cheeses. To the older man who had been running around frantically since the events at the mansion, the entire spread was like manna.

"Don't tell me," Derek said grinning at his boss. "You've changed your mind and you are here to arrest Casey."

Spike laughed and shook his head. "After this meal? Besides, there's no one to press charges over your little stunt." Derek's boss told Casey. "You were lucky, it was foolish but at the same time most of us understand why you did it."

"No one?" Casey queried. "Not even his family?"  
Spike looked uncomfortable. "Well there was some unhappiness over the unauthorised raid, but _someone_ might have let slip to them that Smythe was responsible for Steven's death and that you were the avenging angel."

"Oh." Casey didn't know what else to say.

"How is the investigation going?" Derek asked before biting into a large sandwich dripping with melted cheese. Spike too spooned soup into his mouth and gave Casey an appreciative look before answering.

"We've searched the entire complex and sealed the site. The staff has been laid off for the short term because parts of the labs were working on legitimate research and are under contract. They'll be needed in the future. The irony is the government is a silent partner in that legitimate side of things so the powers-that-be are running around like a headless chicken trying to keep the circumstances of the plant's closure under wraps and make sure that they can come out of this without looking bad."

"What about the computers?" Derek asked watching as his boss demolished the soup.  
"We've got some forensic analysts in there looking."

"You got my message about the underground rooms being more important?"  
"Yeah. They've started down there. At first they were going to move everything out back to base, but when they saw the size of the computer set-up they moved their team into the tunnels instead. Their "data centre manager" has volunteered to help prioritise everything. It turned out he used to be with the FBI."

"What the hell's a data centre manager?" Derek asked.

"Sorry. I'm showing my age. The guy in charge of their computer department."

Casey cleared Spike's now-empty bowl and smiled as he reached for a sandwich.

"Cake?" She asked.

"_Cake_?" Spike asked.

"I made the mistake of telling Derek he could have whatever he wanted for lunch. He requested chocolate cake."

"I don't know. A knock on the head and you get everything laid out at your feet." Spike commented.

Derek glanced at Casey and remembering last night's conversation in bed, pulled a face.

"I wouldn't say _everything_." He noted.

Above Spike's head, Casey stuck her tongue out at her boyfriend.

"There were other sites, you know." Spike went on informing them of the new information they had received. "When we spoke to the head of security he told us all about two more complexes that Smythe owned. They are on a much smaller scale but impressive all the same. We've shut those down too."

"He told me that he had everything he needed to get started again on those disks he was carrying."  
"They were interesting. Obviously we are still going through the information but, there are details on there of people who were being paid off, new ideas for other schemes."

"What about the steroids?" Casey asked, depositing large slabs of chocolate cake in front of both men. Derek frowned, noting that her own plate was still in her place, untouched. He frowned pointedly and jerked his head to make her sit down. Casey did so slowly.

"Well the discovery that there are probably athletes out there who are using steroids on a regular basis without detection has caused a major headache for sports governing bodies. Fortunately, they think they might be able to develop a test for the companion drug so that people who have taken it can be disciplined even if they can't prove they have the steroid in their system."

Casey nodded. "That sounds a reasonable approach. They should look at detecting the family of drugs rather than the individual drug though. Otherwise someone else will just come along and develop a similar drug."  
Spike nodded. "It's made people sit up and take note."

"You've managed to keep most of it out of the news." Derek noted. Spike nodded again.

"Some of it we'll never release because we don't want to give people ideas and what we do release will be watered down. Derek, erm…you need to know that eventually your involvement in this is going to come to light."

"Why?" Derek sat up straight.

"Because one of the people we caught was the guy who pulled the trigger on you eight years ago."

Derek stared at him. "You found him?"

Casey had gone pale. "He's alive?"

"Oh yeah. And like so many of them, he wants to plea bargain."  
"For what? What's he requesting?"  
"He wants us to do a deal over three murders we can pin on him…including the girl's murder."

"Will he get it?"

"Probably. What he doesn't know is that we have evidence of another four murders against him." Spike smile weakly. "Not to mention the attempted murder of one Derek Venturi. When that case goes to court, every one will know that you're alive."

"Oh."  
"Have you thought about how you are going to tell your parents?" Spike looked between the two of them. "That Derek's alive, I mean."

"We were planning on it." Casey confirmed. "It's just…it's _all_ going to be a bit of a shock for them, so we have to be really careful how we do it."

Spike nodded.

"And some things will be even more of a shock for them." Derek pointed out, taking Casey's hand.

"You aren't kidding." Casey murmured under her breath.

"Well if you need any help with it, just let me know." Spike said, picking up his fork to attack the slice of cake. "The department owes you a lot."

He placed a lump of chocolate sponge in his mouth and chewed carefully before he spoke again.

"I heard about the doctors' verdict." Spike said looking carefully at Derek. Casey glanced up quickly. This was still a sore subject with Derek.

"I know, I know. They are going to recommend that I'm taken off active duty with immediate effect which will restrict me to _desk work_." Derek said the words with distaste.

"It's important, Derek." Casey interjected. "Another bang on the head like that and you might not be so lucky."

"I could slip falling down the stairs." Derek protested.

"We'll buy a one-storey house." She retorted. "It's not about there being no risk. It's about reducing the risk. If you are running around chasing criminals every day you stand a very big chance of doing yourself permanent damage."

"Casey…"

But Spike interrupted. "Derek, it's not as though we're making you retire…and of course this is all subject to a medical by the department's own doctors. But, your doctors think active police-work might kill you, and I have to agree."

Derek glared at Casey, and Spike noticed.

"Don't get cross with Casey. She was the one trying to persuade them to let you keep your active status."

"I know how much it means to you." Casey said quietly. "I think they are right that it will get you killed though."

"Besides, we're not talking about just _desk work_. I want you to consider something." Spike said, ignoring the angry glare from his sub-ordinate.

"What?" Derek muttered.

"The events of the past few months have shown me something I had previously missed. This case wouldn't have been solved without Casey and her knowledge and contacts. And Casey's own case wouldn't have been solved without help and support from Bea. When it comes to true expertise and knowledge we are lacking in this department, we've had to rely on our girlfriends' desire to help us when the cases become personal. We don't make enough use of our contacts on the other cases: the ones that are personal to someone else."

Spike sat forward. "I want you to restructure the department, Derek. I want you to take on not only the hiring and firing of staff, but also the maintaining of an external set of sources: people we can trust to give us reliable information. I'm going to get Jazz to head up the operational side using the resources _you_ give him. I want the two of you to put together a new department that is unlike anything the organisation has ever seen. I want it to be new, lean and I want it to work. I want it to get results. I'll get you the money. You deliver me the results."

Derek was quiet for a moment. He had long thought there was much that the department lacked. He hated the fact that some of the people who worked there were what was available rather than what was needed. He hated the dead wood.

Could he do it? Could he give up being part of the action for the chance to influence the action, to make sure that his team had the right man or woman for the job?

"I'll think about it." He said. And they all knew he'd do it.

Spike nodded and turned to Casey. "And have _you_ had chance to think about my offer?" He asked.

Derek's eyes widened.

Casey nodded, ignoring Derek. "I think that if and when Derek accepts his new role I'd like to be part of that, at least in some part-time way. Maybe a civilian contractor? But, to go all the way and join the RCMP? I think to that I will have to say no."

Derek was stunned. "You offered her my job?" he spluttered.

Spike laughed. "Not exactly. I just pointed out to Casey that she had now carried out two police operations in a thoroughly professional manner and that there was a place for her within the department if she felt like a change."

"And you think I would have let her?"  
Casey snorted. "Don't be a Neanderthal Derek it doesn't suit you…okay…maybe it does, but since when have I allowed you to dictate my career to me?"

Derek stared at her in amusement, all three of them aware that her entire career choice had come about because of Derek's "death".

All three of them laughed as the irony hit them. Including Casey.

It was strange how she could look back and see the humour now.

Now that he was alive, with her, and in love with her.

They'd overcome death. Let's hope the other hurdles chucked at them would be as easy.

* * *

Later when they were alone again, Derek pulled Casey down on the sofa and into his arms. They lay there for many moments in complete silence, her back to his front, the back of Casey's head on Derek's left shoulder, their fingers entwined.

Derek kissed the right side of her temple, the part of her that he could easily reach.

"Come on, admit it. You turned Spike down because you knew I wouldn't like you being a cop."

Casey snickered. "You have such a big head." She told him. His arms tightened around her middle.

"It's not about having a big head, it's just that you know I'd do the same in your position." He said virtuously.

"That's crap, Derek. The only reason you're giving in to desk duty is because you know they are going to tell you that you aren't fit for purpose. Giving in first is so that they don't put it down on your record that you are unfit. It has nothing to do with my desire for you to be safe. You didn't stop climbing on things like the scaffolding as I asked."

"I did."

She turned to look at him.

"Okay…how did you get into the mansion?"  
Derek's eyes turned away from hers. "I went in through the fire escape. It was open."

"No it wasn't. I saw the CCTV, Derek. You know I had my heart in my mouth the whole time. It was reckless."

"Reckless? This from the woman who climbed a rock wall to prove a point."  
"That wasn't reckless. I was harnessed and there were trained specialists there."

"Well I knew what I was doing with the fire escape." He muttered.

An uneasy silence fell over them. Derek tightened his arms around her.

"I'm glad you're going to take the new role." Casey said then.

"Will you be my first recruit?" Derek asked.

"I'll be your first consultant." She agreed. "Although I guess I already do that job for free as it is."

"Yeah. You do." He said with a smile. "It would be nice if you got paid for it."

Casey looked up at him and he kissed her gently before going on. "I'm really glad you didn't take the bigger job….whatever your reasons _really_ are." His tone made it clear he still thought it was because he wouldn't have liked her doing it.

Casey sighed heavily, and Derek was alarmed at the sudden loss of her good humour.

"Derek, I love you more than my life but I didn't make the decision for you." Casey said seriously.  
"Oh?"

"I think I'm pregnant."

The Middle.

* * *

**AN: I've been dropping hints about this for several chapters…and no one said a word!**

**A little pause and then chapter 1 of The Final Legacy. I'm hoping to deliver that before I come Stateside next week…(!)**


End file.
